The Impossible Job
by funkyrandomer
Summary: Saoirse Nolan is an aspiring engineer who successfully applies for the intern-ship at Wayne Tower beneath the dedicated care of Lucius Fox. All is not as it seems and having a curious nature; questions plague her, the main one concerning her boss' boss. Is Bruce Wayne really the playboy he wants the world to believe or is there more to this wealthy bachelor than meets the eye?
1. Chapter 1

**This is a story I completed a little while ago so I'll be posting all of the chapters in one go. Saoirse is an Irish name pronounced as Sersha. Enjoy! **

**...**

Saoirse peered around the amphitheatre, trying to understand why so many people were attending her Applied Science lecture. Her suspicions were raised when she identified students studying medicine, medieval history and psychology y sitting around her. Two excited first years sat in front of her and judging by the folders on their desk, they were majoring in philosophy. What (or more likely who) was causing philosophy students to sit in on her lecture?! They were talking enthusiastically to one another and Saoirse leaned closer to hopefully have her question answered.

'I can't believe he's going to be on that stage talking to us in a few minutes!' One squeaked.

'I know; I'm skipping an obligatory tutorial to see him! Do you think he'll be as handsome in person?' The other gushed.

'Oh gosh, I hope so! Did you see him on the cover of that magazine with the slight facial hair?'

'He's just beautiful.'

Saoirse was about to ask who exactly looked good with facial hair when the doors behind the pedestal opened. Silence chased around the theatre as students craned their necks to catch a glimpse of their lecturer. The usual Professor James Andrew stepped forward, his bow tie and jovial lilac shirt always making him easy to spot from a distance. Who he was followed by explained the packed theatre. It was none other than Bruce Wayne; the Prince of Gotham; and as he stepped forward he was greeted by tumultuous applause. Unlike the rest of the audience, Saoirse did not applaud the billionaire playboy and remained baffled by his presence in her Applied Science lecture. Her confusion vanished when she saw a familiar man following Mr Wayne. He was elderly and went unnoticed by the crowd except for Saoirse. His name was Lucius Fox and he was one of the most brilliant engineers of the past decade.

He was the reason Saoirse studied Applied Sciences.

Bruce Wayne raised his hands and the crowd fell silent. 'Thank you, I wish I received such a warm welcome from my boardroom.' He said with half a smile. The girls in front dissolved into giggles. 'Now, most of you are curious about this visit as I've never taken time from my busy schedule of driving sports cars and courting models to lecture students. So unlike when I was in Princeton, bored out of my tree by lecturers – no offence Professor Andrew – let me get straight to the point. This man here –'he gestured towards Lucius '– used to work in Applied Sciences at Wayne Enterprises before being promoted to the top job, C.E.O!' Mr Wayne punched each letter into the crowd. 'Now I know what you're thinking, how on earth does an engineer in Applied Sciences suddenly become the head of a serious corporation? It's simple: He has the Midas touch. Every business Mr Fox is given control over manages to balance out its financial instabilities to once again become profitable. Unfortunately, his presence has been missed in Applied Sciences so he wisely suggested we hire someone to fill the hole; a bright new engineer. As this was where he graduated he thought it a suitable place to sniff out a successor.' At the word "successor" everyone began whispering intensely.

'Listen closely; this is the information which could change your life forever.' Bruce Wayne said while lowering his voice, causing the crowd to lean in.

'Here is how the process will begin: You'll be given a puzzle to solve and those competent enough to solve it will be allowed to submit their resume. If the curriculum vitae stands up to scrupulous inspection, you'll be called to an interview and undergo a substantial grilling. After all candidates have been heard, Lucius and I will decide which candidate would best fit into Wayne Enterprises, receiving an amiable salary along with crucial life experience. Now, if you all check beneath your seats, you will find your puzzle.' There was a cacophony of noise as everyone scrambled beneath their seats. Saoirse's hand grasped a silk bag which she carefully deposited on the desk. Opening the bag, she pulled out a smooth, silver sphere.

'This is a test set by Lucius Fox himself to gauge your creative problem solving skills. The aim: to open the sphere. Once achieved, it will reveal instructions on how to submit your resume. This test must be undertaken on your own, you must not give the puzzle to a professor or friend; it must be done by your hand only.'

'How will you know if we solve it on our own?' A voice in the front row asked.

'Here, let me demonstrate.' Bruce Wayne strode over towards the student and picked up his metal puzzle. 'Right now; this puzzle has not been activated so I can pick it up and toss it around without anything happening. Now, place your thumb here.' Bruce said to the student. He placed his thumb on the centre of the circular object while everyone craned to see. 'As you may or may not be able to see, the device has now been activated. How you ask? It's fingerprint sensitive and has a tiny database of all the Applied Science students from this college in a tiny little hard drive. Now, the device has recognized you to be Daniel Woods, is that right?' The student nodded. 'This device is now assigned to Daniel and will only respond to his touch. If any other student tries to solve this puzzle, they will find themselves unable to.' Bruce Wayne picked up the device with the silk bag so none of it was touching his skin. 'You with the green hair! Think fast!' Bruce Wayne carelessly lobbed the device a few rows up which luckily the boy with green hair caught. As soon as his fingers clasped the object, the sphere emitted a series of sparks and with a quick yelp; the puzzle was dropped on the desk. 'As was kindly demonstrated; you will receive an electric shock from the device if you try to solve a puzzle which isn't yours.' Bruce explained to an awed audience. Saoirse wasted no time pressing her thumb to the sphere at the centre while trying to figure out how much a device such as this might cost. 'If you successfully manage to submit your resume, you will once more be asked to demonstrate how to solve the puzzle in your interview. And if someone manages to solve the puzzle, they are forbidden to show anyone else their solution. A word of advice, don't cheat; we will know if anyone has been sharing information.' An excited buzz broke around the room while Saoirse pondered the proposal the young billionaire had put forward.

'Now… any questions?' A flurry of hands shot up as if Bruce Wayne had pulled a gun on the crowd. 'You, turtle neck guy.'

'Do you have to be studying Applied Sciences to enter?'

'Yes. Oh and swapping that turtle neck for a shirt will most definitely help with the ladies.' He added with a wink much to the audience's humour. 'You with the dreadlocks.'

'Is there an age restriction Mr Wayne?'

'Above 20 is preferred unless you're a genius teenager. And please don't call me Mr Wayne, I'm not your boss yet.' The crowd laughed. 'You with the hangover.' He said, pointing towards a bloodshot student.

'What _is_ Applied Sciences at Wayne Enterprise?'

'Applied Sciences is an important sector of Wayne Enterprises, it's where great ideas are allowed to come to life and is the birthplace of new weapons and armour for the army. If you're up for the task, you would be presented with a lot of creative freedom and a generous budget.'

The questions continued for another ten minutes with the young billionaire providing witty answers, keeping the room hypnotized. Saoirse would have fallen prey to his charms if not for the presence of Lucius Fox. Her own idol was in this room and she may have a chance to work in the same company as him, doing the same job he used to do. She began inspecting the sphere on her lap, it was a test she was determined to pass, yet how was it supposed to open? She could see no grooves on the smooth surface…

A round of applause drew Saoirse's attention back to the pedestal, it seemed Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox were leaving. As the doors closed behind them, James Andrew tried to begin his own lecture but the crowd was too restless and soon he gave up, dismissing the class.


	2. Chapter 2

It was very late. Saoirse was lounging on a comfy armchair, refusing to look at the gleaming puzzle on the table which had vexed her for the past two days. Her roommate, Lisbeth, sat opposite nursing a mug of tea. Saoirse usually lived in solitude yet there was something about this suave medical student which made her very easy to live with. Lisbeth had just returned from a three day trip consisting of tough medical exams in another city. She looked exhausted, her brown hair tied back messily while bags pulled beneath her eyes. Her degree was fascinating and as a studying technique, Lisbeth would teach Saoirse about different parts of her course. This worked well for Lisbeth as all of her exams were spoken, not written. Saoirse absorbed the information like a sponge, finding the course material captivating.

'I wish I'd been there to see him.' Lisbeth muttered, dipping a biscuit thoughtfully into her mug.

'And missed your exams? I don't think seeing Bruce Wayne was _that_ important.' Saoirse responded.

'True, yet he remains Gotham's Prince. And it's nice to see the royalty of your city when they surprise you with a visit.'

'How did the exams go?'

'Rather excellently. Thanks for letting me play teacher with you, it really helped.' To most people, this response may seem arrogant but Lisbeth was a person who simply called a shovel a shovel. There were no hidden meanings to what she said and Saoirse admired her blunt manner, finding it refreshing instead of abrasive.

'I'm not Bruce Wayne's biggest fan but I have to admit, he was very impressive in that lecture hall. It's hard to believe he's just a few years older than us.' Saoirse said.

'He's born lucky.' Lisbeth muttered.

'Born lucky?' Saoirse asked.

'He's a handsome, single billionaire in his late twenties. What more could a man desire?'

'A personality?'

The two girls giggled into their mugs, Lisbeth losing half a biscuit in the heat of the moment. She spent the next thirty seconds trying to fish it out before giving up and allowing it to settle on the floor of her mug. She peered at the silver sphere sitting innocently on the coffee table for a moment before reaching out to pick it up.

'DON'T TOUCH THAT!' Saoirse roared. Lisbeth's hand swerved just in time but instead, she upset her tea onto the couch. She swore violently while dabbing aggressively at the stained fabric.

'What the hell is wrong with you Saoirse?! Look what you made me do!'

'Sorry; here.' Saoirse mumbled while grabbing a cloth to clear up the mess. The two dabbed for a tense minute before giving up and flipping the cushion over.

'Did you get high when I was gone?' Lisbeth asked suspiciously.

'No! What gave you that impression?'

'Well, your reaction to me picking up that sphere was somewhat... out of proportion! Is there weed in it or something?' Saoirse couldn't help herself, she burst into uncontrollable laughter.

'Lisbeth, that's the puzzle I was telling you about, the one designed by Lucius Fox!'

'_That's_ the puzzle which can give me an electric shock?' She asked incredulously. Saoirse nodded while Lisbeth tried to put a little more distance between herself and the silver sphere.

'But why? Why bother with such a strange security device?'

'It's to maintain a level playing field for all contestants. If it didn't have this mechanism, I could easily hand it over to my professor to solve.'

'So there's an internship up for grabs if you solve this puzzle?'

'Not quite, whoever solves the puzzle will be allowed to progress to the next stage… But something isn't right, I've a hunch this wasn't the only reason why these were given out.'

'You think Wayne Enterprise have an ulterior motive?'

'Possibly… Why would Wayne Enterprise show off their wealth and power to a bunch of college students? It all seems a bit strange, looking to recruit an engineer with no experience into a high profile job…'

'If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.' Lisbeth said wisely. Saoirse picked up the sphere and allowed it to roll around the palm of her hand.

'Technology like this is always expensive and they were handing them out like candy bars in the lecture hall.' Saoirse murmured.

'Ulterior motives aside, have you made any headway on how to solve it?'

Saoirse shook her head. She'd spent the past few days staring at the sphere, rolling it around in her hands while trying to think of various ways in which she could open it. She'd been to the library, spent hours on the computer and taken the sphere with her wherever she went. Yet there were no seams to pull at, no parts to twist, no puzzle to solve. The only thing she knew was this: the sphere was hollow. She sighed heavily while heading over to the sink with her empty mug, dropping it into the soapy basin. She stared at the sphere for a moment before placing it on the windowsill. As her hands washed away the dregs of tea, the sphere rolled and plummeted into the sink.

'NOOOOO!' She roared as the sphere disappeared beneath the surface.

'What the hell happened now?!' Lisbeth yelled while dashing into the small kitchen.

Just as Saoirse was about to wrestle the puzzle from the water, she noticed an array of tiny bubbles violently issuing from the sphere. She carefully brushed her panic aside and observed the bubbles, trying to discern their location.

'Saoirse what the hell are you doing? Get the puzzle out of there!' Lisbeth said while jostling her impatiently. Saoirse shook her off before returning her attention to the sink. After a few seconds, she recognised the pattern the source of bubbles was creating. She ignored the perplexed look on her roommate's face and quickly scooped the puzzle out of the sink. She vaguely hoped the water hadn't damaged the inside but was too excited to care. With trembling fingers, she traced the outline of the sphere, focusing on the area where the bubbles had issued. She closed her eyes to heighten her sensitivity of touch and continued to browse the surface with her fingertips.

There.

A small nook presented itself to her fingertip, completely invisible to the naked eye. She felt along the nook and slowly began to prise the section of the sphere upwards. After a tense minute of pulling, a small piece of the sphere gave way and lay in Saoirse's hand.

'Is that…?' Lisbeth whispered. Saoirse nodded.

It was something beautifully familiar, a small silver jigsaw piece. The solution to the puzzle was to recognise that the sphere was actually a jigsaw which once completed, provided the rigid shape of a sphere. All of the pieces had been expertly blended to create the illusion of a smooth surface. Saoirse was in awe of the simplicity and beauty of the puzzle, it required no mathematics, no expensive equipment… just an ability to see the sphere from a different perspective. She quickly turned the device upside down and with some water, fell a laminated sheet of paper with some instructions. The empty sphere was put down beside the sink while Saoirse read the slightly blurred words.

'What does it say?' Lisbeth asked.

'It says I have to submit a hardcopy of my resume to the address stated above no later than… forty minutes after opening the device.' Saoirse said in a deathly quiet voice. Lisbeth checked her watch in disbelief.

'Saoirse, it's half two in the morning! The building at that address is _not _going to be open.' Ignoring her roommate, Saoirse scrambled around her dorm room looking for her car keys and grabbing her wisely pre-printed C.V. from her bedroom before throwing herself into a coat. 'You can't be serious.' Lisbeth said.

'Are you coming or not?' Saoirse asked.

Lisbeth swallowed a few times, trying to put her thoughts into words but quickly settled for a simple 'Yes.' The two dashed out of the building and into the night's lashing rain. It was pitch black outside the apartment complex and Saoirse wasted no time in approaching and starting her car. She glanced at the address again; a twenty minute drive from here and five precious minutes had already passed since the device had opened. No-one spoke as Saoirse drove through the early morning rain, her mind veering close to panic when she considered the late hour she was submitting her C.V. Would she have to put it through the letter box? Would they know she managed to submit it on time?

Twenty minutes later, she took a collected breath and looked at the building in front of her. It was in an average part of Gotham city, not too posh and not too poor. However, the building wasn't dead; there were lights on behind the front door much to Saoirse's relief. She quickly exited the car with Lisbeth by her side. The two hurtled towards the red door, trying to avoid negative thoughts of no-one answering at this late hour. Saoirse desperately tried the door handle which did not turn beneath her determined grasp. Then both banged their fists against the wooden door and rang the doorbell a few times but no-one was there to let them in. Saoirse felt nauseous as she checked her watch again, dismayed to find there was less than ten minutes for her to submit her resume. Her problem solving skills were met with the phrase 'This is stupid' whenever she tried to think of a solution to this situation.

'Saoirse think! Was there some instruction you missed on that small piece of paper?' Lisbeth asked; forever calm and collected. Saoirse fumbled for the small piece of paper, squinting at the words in the poor light.

'What does it say?' Lisbeth demanded.

'It says something about using initiative to get through the door.'

'Initiative? How about we stick it through the post-box, I think that's creative enough for this hour!' Saoirse agreed with her roommate and began searching for the post-box. After thirty seconds she realised there wasn't a post-box to put her C.V. into.

'Are you telling me that with all of his money, Bruce Wayne is far too stingy to install a measly post-box into one of his offices?!' Saoirse yelled at no-one in particular. Lisbeth leant heavily against the door, too exhausted for this sort of nonsense. Angry as she was, Saoirse hadn't dashed out of her apartment like some ravenous lion to return defeated by a door. She re-read the instruction about using her own initiative to gain access to the building. Perhaps unusual methods were allowed to be employed in this situation. The puzzle was bizarre enough, breaking a few rules wouldn't matter now… She quickly returned to her car, rooted around in her glove compartment and retrieved what she had been searching for: a lock pick. She returned to the stoic door and faced it, armed with her new key.

'Lisbeth, keep an eye out.'

'Saoirse, why the hell do you have a lock pick in your car? Wait… are you going to break into this building?!' Lisbeth hissed in disbelief.

'Just keep watch!'

'Keep watch for what?'

'I dunno, they always say that in the movies. Just look out for suspicious activity…'

'You're going to set off the alarm… in a Wayne Enterprise building!'

'This is the only thing which makes sense right now. It's the solution, I know it is…'

'No, the only solution is to step away from this and go home!'

'Would you mind focussing on our surroundings instead of what I'm trying to do?'

She inserted the pick into the lock. It was one of those old fashioned locks which had a half chance of unlocking without a key. It took a good sixty seconds of fumbling and cursing before the lock clicked and the door swung inwards. The bright light of the lobby was blinding as she took a step through the doorway. Immediately her eyes scoured the room, searching for a place to submit her resume. However, she did not expect there to be someone to hand it _to._ A security guard in his forties was observing them over the top of his newspaper, looking completely nonplussed at the sight of two college girls forcing entry on his building.

'Damn, I lost the bet.' He muttered to himself. The girls were frozen in the doorway as they stared at the guard carefully folding his newspaper. He stood up and slowly walked towards them, while both girls hoped their jittery legs would support them. Soon he towered over them but didn't make any move to place cuffs on their wrists or call the police.

'Well?' He said, looking at them expectantly. Saoirse seemed to have misplaced her vocal chords as speaking had become impossible.

'Well do you have your C.V. or not?' He asked patiently. From Saoirse's periphery vision, she watched Lisbeth's jaw drop.

'Eh, here.' Saoirse said while awkwardly handing him the envelope. The guard took the C.V. out and read the name at the top of the page. He nodded to himself with satisfaction before turning his back on the girls and heading towards the reception desk. 'This way ladies.' He said. Saoirse and Lisbeth shared a confused look before following the guard. He led them behind a large mahogany desk where a bizarre array of equipment met their eyes. 'Do you have the puzzle? You know, the circular object which gave you this buildings address.' He asked. Saoirse nodded, handing him the puzzle without a word. He placed it in a special black box, pressed a button and a humming noise began. 'Sonar waves, they manage to identify fingerprints more easily than lasers.' He explained as if it were completely natural to describe this contraption to two college girls at 3am. The machine stopped humming and an image of Saoirse's sphere appeared on the adjacent computer screen. The metal surface was completely littered with fingerprints. 'Now if you don't mind placing all ten of your fingers onto this pad here…' the guard said. Saoirse spread her fingertips onto the cool black pad which brightened into an unsettling shade of green. After a moment she removed her fingers and her prints were scanned into the computer. On the screen, an image of her ten fingerprints could be identified and with the press of a button, each print on the sphere was matched with Saoirse's freshly taken prints. 'This is the process Wayne Enterprise uses to make sure no-one but you has touched the puzzle. It'll take a few minutes.' He said. Saoirse just stared in awe as the fingerprints on the sphere were matched with her own at blinding speed. The programme was sleek, elegant beautiful. It had Lucius Fox written all over it.

'What bet did you lose?' Lisbeth asked the guard.

'Wayne Enterprise has made sure to have someone here round the clock in case some mad student decided to solve the puzzle in the middle of the night. Honestly, I never thought someone would come knocking on this building's door close to three am, never mind have the nerve to pick the lock! And the bet I lost? I bet against you, that you wouldn't make it here on time while my colleague bet the opposite.'

'Why didn't you just let us in when we knocked?' Saoirse asked, not caring about the stupid bet which the stupid guard had stupidly made.

'I'm not allowed to. It's the same scenario during the day; Mr Fox made it very clear that you had to figure out how to get into the building on your own while under severe time pressure.'

'So I was s_upposed _to pick the lock?' Saoirse asked incredulously.

'Picking the lock is a much more elegant solution to smashing a window as one genius decided to try.' The guard said while nodding over towards a recently repaired window. 'I honestly didn't expect you to come down here at this hour when your signal was set off.'

'Signal?' Saoirse asked.

'The signal which told me you had managed to open the puzzle. It sets off a timer of 40 minutes which you had to beat in order to submit your C.V. which in a minute you should be able to do.' A small beep attracted the attention of the guard back to the computer screen. He nodded in satisfaction. 'Your fingerprints are the only ones present which means you've solved it by your own hand. I'll just scan your C.V. in now.' He said. After that relatively simple task was done, he turned and nodded to the two of them. 'You may have lost me twenty bucks, but that was a pretty smooth entrance. Good luck with the job opportunity kiddo.'

Saoirse stared at the bizarre scenario for a moment, wondering if she was dreaming or not. She nodded her thanks to the security guard and made a quick exit out of the building with Lisbeth close behind her. They sat in the car for a good five minutes, trying to accept what had just happened.

'Did that… really happen?' Lisbeth asked in a low voice.

'I-I think it did. A security guard wanted us to break in…' Saoirse murmured in disbelief. She allowed her head to fall into her hands as she contemplated the current situation. She voiced a particular concern aloud: 'Lisbeth, if the job application was so strange and tedious, what on earth is working in Applied Sciences going to entail?'

'A job where you use your own initiative… and have no qualms with breaking into buildings.' Lisbeth replied. Saoirse nodded slowly before starting the car and driving home, trying to put as much distance between herself and that strange experience. She didn't feel elated, she felt exhausted, the type of exhaustion which always followed stressful situations.

She was dreaming before she remembered climbing into bed. Her visions were haunted by what a possible interview may entail from Wayne Enterprises from slaying dragons with lock picks to using sonar to find the interview room which happened to be on the Pacific Ocean floor. While trying to solve these problems, Bruce Wayne would pelt her with silver puzzles while riding side saddle on a Harley Davidson, laughing manically...

One thing Saoirse would learn from this intense dreaming was that it always prevented a refreshing nights rest.


	3. Chapter 3

'I can't believe I didn't get an interview.' Saoirse said while staring into the murky depths of her coffee.

'They could still call.'

'Lisbeth, it's been a week since we submitted my C.V.'

The two were sitting in a tiny cafe, Lisbeth patiently reading a textbook with Saoirse ignoring the urge to check her phone for missed calls. It was horribly unfair that after the downright insane experience of submitting her C.V. she wouldn't be called for an interview. She idly wondered how many people had been called for interviews, maybe the interviews were already over and the job had already been allocated...

'You never told me why you had a lock pick in your car.' Lisbeth suddenly said. Saoirse stopped stirring her coffee and cautiously looked up at her roommate.

'I thought I did…'

'Saoirse, I'm not an idiot, I would remember if you told me why you keep a lock pick in your glove compartment.' Lisbeth said dismissively.

'I don't rob people if that's what you're insinuating.'

'No? Then how is it that you pick locks with relative ease?'

'Boredom.' Saoirse responded truthfully.

'Boredom?' Lisbeth asked incredulously.

'Yes, I was bored one day so I began to roam the streets of Gotham aimlessly and this quirky little shop caught my eye. It had the most bizarre things on sale from lock picks to bumper stickers to shavings of real gold. So I bought a lock pick, went home and after a few tutorials on the internet, managed to unlock my own bedroom door without a key.'

'That is… truly random.'

'Random, yet believable.'

'Were there really tutorials on the internet?'

'Not just for lock picking, there were tutorials about breaking into cars, hot wiring cars, and disabling a variety of alarms.' Saoirse left out the part that she had also watched those tutorials and had tested her skills on her own car, resulting in easy success.

'And they wonder why the crime rate in Gotham is so high…' Lisbeth shook her head in disbelief.

'Without Batman it would be a lot higher.' Saoirse muttered to herself. The piercing look she received made her wish she'd held her tongue. The subject of Batman was one rarely brought up in Lisbeth's presence who despised the "lawless vigilante" whose principals she angrily disagreed with.

'The situation is worse than ever! He upset everything in this city and now the citizens of Gotham are paying the price!' She spat. Saoirse wisely didn't respond to the outburst, she didn't want to create a scene in the coffee shop. Lisbeth glared at her for a moment, angrily awaiting a response which was not coming. She slowly lowered her attention to her book and ignored Saoirse for a few minutes. Saoirse always wondered why Batman provoked such an extreme reaction from her cool headed friend yet to receive an answer just wasn't worth the heated argument. Being a black and white person, Saoirse regarded the Batman from a logical perspective. Since his infamous rise, crime rates had dropped and the city of Gotham was slowly dragging itself out of crime and corruption which it had been drowning in for decades. Yet the hooded figure had caused the death of some unfortunate innocent bystanders.

'Pyloerection.' Lisbeth said.

'What?!' Saoirse asked, completely confused.

'Pyloerection.' She repeated impatiently.

'What the hell is "Pyloerection"?'

'I'm so glad you asked. It's the process where the hair on the body becomes erect in order to retain a layer of heat close to the skin. It's a survival mechanism more commonly known as Goosebumps.'

'Pyloerection? That's a cool word…' Saoirse admitted.

'I know.'

Lisbeth returned her attention to her textbook while Saoirse tried to understand the random information. Outside the Wayne Enterprise building last week, she'd certainly experienced Pyloerection. And with memories of those Goosebumps returned her initial worry: the absence of an interview. All of this suspense was killing her, why didn't they just call to say her C.V. didn't stand up to the competition? It would end all this 'What if?' nonsense which was driving her insane. Her freshly renewed worry coupled with the awkward tension between her and Lisbeth forced Saoirse to make a snap decision.

'I'm going to the gym. I'll see you back in our dorm later.'

'Strenuous exercise is excellent for reducing stress and also releases feel-good endorphins resulting in a relaxed state of mind and body. Go, but make sure you leave your phone behind to achieve said contented state.' Lisbeth said more to her textbook than to her roommate.

Saoirse shook her head slightly before heading back to her room to change. She quickly skipped into some comfortable clothes and twenty minutes later she was in the gym, looking forward to the rush of endorphins. She opened her locker and exchanged her bag for a roll of white bandages. She went upstairs to a mostly male dominated room, and warmed up with a few stretches. This was no ordinary gym, there were no rows of treadmills and bikes here nor could you sign up for spinning classes. This was a place of heart, of spirit: a place of boxing. A picture of Muhammad Ali had pride of place over the entrance with his phrase 'Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee' emblazoned across the black and white print. Boxing bags dripping with the sweat of a thousand angry men surrounded a boxing ring where men elegantly traded blows. Saoirse drank the beautiful image in before grasping a skipping rope and finding a quiet corner to begin her workout. She began to swing the rope intensely, her heart rate rising to the occasion.

This continued for ten minutes until sweat poured off her body, forcing her to lose the hoodie. Next she wrapped her hands tightly in bandages before approaching the training bag. After altering the weight to a suitable level, she raised her hands above her head and began to hit the bag in a circular motion. She focused on her breathing and the steady momentum of her hands. Her pace increased as frustrating thoughts of Wayne Enterprise filled her head. Her fists blurred as the bag rose and fell to the beating of her heart, causing a well-muscled man on her left to pause and watch her onslaught. Her arms ached, muscles begging for her to stop, but she would not. Sweat dripped into her eyes, her ponytail slashing the air violently behind her. She finally stopped and had to wait longer than usual to find her breath. More skipping interrupted the favourite part of her routine: The boxing bag. She donned her well-worn gloves and made sure she was arms-length from the bag. Then the true punching began, left jabs, right jabs, left hooks, right hooks, left body shots, right body shots. Her hips constantly rotated, her feet constantly moved. She punched her anger and worries into the bag, loving the way it absorbed the impact. The punches began to vary, combinations of hooks, jabs and body shots bloomed as her speed increased. She paused to down some water and was surprised to see Old Man Jim watching her. He was the owner of this boxing gym and had no qualms about letting a girl within his territory. Back in his prime he had been an unbelievable boxer in the middleweight category. His speed and agility earned him the nickname flash.

'What's up old man?' She asked, wiping the sweat from her eyes.

'Want to spar?' He asked, raising his hands to show them cushioned with training pads.

'What's the catch?' She asked suspiciously.

'Now why would you ask me that?'

'You've never asked me to spar before.' Saoirse said bluntly.

'You weren't ready before. Come on, lose the gloves. Good now, hands beneath your chin, give me some jabs.'

Saoirse raised her hands cautiously before slowly hitting the targets he set her. She was horribly aware that some of the surrounding men had paused in their routine to watch the girl train with an old legend. Jim's pace slowly increased, forcing Saoirse to keep up. Her punches were clean at first but as her stamina wore down, so too declined the accuracy of her hits. Every time this happened, Jim would clip her over the head with one of his padded hands, deliberately irritating her. He'd mutter words of encouragement to her sometimes as the minutes wore onwards. Tired muscle continued to meet the demands of the Old Man as his pace continued to rise; his hands blurring slightly before Saoirse's weary eyes. She focused on her breathing to avoid giving into the complaints of her body.

'That's enough. Take a breather. And ignore those wimps.' Jim said, throwing the spectators an admonishing glare. Saoirse tried to drink some water but accidently inhaled some into her lungs. She bent over in a coughing fit, resisting the urge to spew her lunch onto the gym's floor.

'Again.' Jim said, raising his padded arms. Saoirse did her best to hide her lack of enthusiasm, her arms hanging limply by her side. She wiped her face of any reluctance and raised her fists. For the next few minutes they had another bout until Saoirse had to call time as her arms screamed with frustration.

'Boxing is all about stamina. Concentrate on your breathing, recover… Now again.' Jim said. Saoirse wanted to quit, to tell Old Man Jim where to stick his training pads but when she looked into his bright blue eyes, the words died on her lips. She raised her hands again and focused on striking each pad cleanly. This bout lasted slightly longer than her second one and in her fifth cycle, she tried hitting _through_ the training pads, resulting in a remarkably clean set of shots. Jim smiled in response and lowered his hands. 'Much improved, much improved.' He murmured while checking his watch. 'I must go now but that was… promising. You managed to improve yourself in those short bouts without me saying a word. Next time you're here, we'll train a little more alright?' Saoirse nodded dumbly, not wanting to question his motives. 'And have a good run before you punch a bag again; skipping is only one type of aerobic exercise.' Saoirse nodded he left her and took up his position in the ring. She picked up her water bottle and left the gym in awe, wondering what she'd been doing to the training bag which would spark the interest of Old Man Jim. Every person in that gym was trying to catch his eye for his expert opinion. Saoirse had never expected any attention from him, not because she was a girl but because she had no intention of pursuing boxing professionally.

She left the gym in remarkably good spirits though her body ached in places she didn't know existed. She wondered if she would be able to make it out of bed tomorrow. As the pavement disappeared into grass beneath her feet, Saoirse reflected on the happy accident of boxing being introduced into her life. It had occurred some three years ago when she had asked someone for directions to a normal gym but had been misdirected. Upon entering, Saoirse had been completely hypnotised by the angry men punching vigorously into their padded bags. She remembered feeling foolish signing up but after she had learned the basics, how to punch correctly, the weaknesses of the body, sheer enjoyment ensued. It wasn't an exercise she dully maintained for her own health, it was a genuine pleasure. It allowed her the comfort of knowing if she ever landed in a violent situation, she would have a decent chance of defending herself. Just as she was turning the key of her dorm room, a second year living next door distracted her from nostalgic thoughts.

'Saoirse! There was a delivery for you but you weren't here to sign for it.' He said rapidly. It took a moment for Saoirse to comprehend his sandwiched words before accepting the bag he offered.

'The postman isn't allowed on our dorm floors…' Saoirse mused.

'It wasn't the postman; some old guy in a suit was knocking on your door.'

Saoirse froze.

'Did he say anything?'

'He said this was for you and then mumbled something about not wanting to pick your lock.' Saoirse managed to stumble over a quick thank you before dashing into her room and ripping into the bag, placing what she found on the coffee table. With heart pounding, she examined an expensive looking bottle of champagne which appeared to be empty. Peering through the dark glass she could see a carefully rolled piece of paper nestled within a bow. After wrestling with the cork and upending the bottle, a delicately rolled piece of parchment fell into her open palm. With trembling fingers, Saoirse carefully undid the bow and slowly unravelled the smooth parchment. An elegant invitation crafted in beautiful calligraphy rose to meet her.

_Dear Saoirse,_

_You have been invited to a meeting with Mr Lucius Fox tomorrow at Wayne Tower. The interview will be held at 12:30pm in room 11 on the 85__th__ floor._

_Sincerely: Wayne Enterprises. _

Saoirse re-read the note before jumping around the room like a maniac. Trained by Old Man Jim _and _she had an interview tomorrow! This had certainly transformed into a remarkable day...


	4. Chapter 4

As she predicted, Saoirse had a hard time hauling herself out of bed. With groaning muscles and protesting bones, she wearily stood up. The caffeine rush of a downed cup of coffee combined with a shower resulted in a soothed body yet panicked mind. With worried feet, she began the tedious task of picking an outfit to wear for her interview. Half an hour later she sat in a sea of disregarded clothes, close to the edge of a nervous breakdown. Lisbeth fought her way through the mess to roughly hoist her up by the elbow.

'Lisbeth, I can't do this. It's Lucius Fox… how the hell will I survive an interview with Lucius Fox?' She said weakly, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. Lisbeth spent the next ten minutes calming her down before helping Saoirse organise herself. An hour later Saoirse had calmed down, was dressed appropriately and was prepping herself with various questions.

Finding the time to be 11:30, she decided to leave her apartment. She tucked the invitation into her coat pocket before thanking Lisbeth for her help that morning. Sooner than she'd like she was driving towards Wayne Tower, her stomach sick with nerves. As she parked the car outside of the impressive building, the knot in her stomach tightened. The morning was muggy; the clouds almost unbearably close creating an uncomfortably sticky atmosphere which did not help her mood. Saoirse walked in through the large glass doors into an impressive lobby. She headed straight for the elevator, not wanting to ponder the price of the contemporary decoration. She stepped in, ignored the childish urge to press all the available buttons and pushed number 85. Her stomach jolted as the lift ascended quickly. Her hands grasped the support bar so tightly, her knuckle straining against her skin. The elevator doors opened and she was presented with floor 85. Saoirse would be blunt; her expectations of a beautifully crafted office floor were dashed, boring carpet lined the hallway and offices littered the corridor at regular intervals. She noticed a handful of people sitting in front of a door and her heart sank as she realized it must be room eleven. She sat down in one of the luxurious leather armchairs and was faced by her competition. Four people sat in similar armchairs, heads studying notes or avoiding eye contact with other candidates. Three were men, the other female. Saoirse recognised the guy closest to her as the one whose puzzle had been activated in the lecture hall… Daniel Woods. The others looked familiar yet she knew none of their names. Saoirse did her best to ignore how incredibly beautiful the other female candidate was, blonde, blue eyes and long legs. She had seen her a few times in the lecture hall but had no idea she was smart enough to get this far.

The door opened and Daniel Woods name was called. He rose out of his seat stiffly and entered the door marked number eleven. Saoirse resisted the urge to chew her nails while waiting for her turn to be interviewed. Daniel's interview was over surprisingly quickly and he left the room with clenched fists. Another one of the men was called in and he was in the room for at least twice the length of his predecessor. Soon it was the beautiful blonde's turn to be called in but hers was the shortest interview of all, lasting a meagre 15 minutes. She was blushing furiously upon exiting the interview room. The last man was called in and Saoirse was suddenly left alone in the empty corridor. She felt stiff so she walked towards the end of the hallway towards a full length window. She gasped when staring out, observing the skyline of Gotham city sprawling out as far as the eye could see. She could see various familiar landmarks including the tall spire marking the position of her college. The panoramic views settled any leftover nerves form this morning and a peaceful calm stole over her. She leant against the window, pressing her hand against the cool glass. Gotham had never looked so devastatingly beautiful.

'Striking view is it not?' Said a voice close to her ear. Saoirse supressed every urge to turn and hit whoever had invaded her personal space. She immediately identified the person speaking; it matched the silky voice which had hypnotised her Applied Science lecture over a week ago. Judging by how close his voice sounded, Saoirse would have to estimate him standing less than two feet away. Instead of turning around and risking such close proximity with the notorious playboy, she continued to admire the impressive skyline before responding.

'Who knew Gotham could be so radiant, Mr Wayne?' She murmured against the window, the glass steaming beneath her breath. She casually walked a few paces to the other side of the window before turning. Bruce Wayne was calmly observing her, lounging against the dully patterned wall. He was unnervingly handsome, the high cheekbones coupled with the deep eyes and straight nose proved to be overall aesthetically pleasing. But Saoirse was not uncomfortable in the billionaire's presence; he was just a man, a man who relied heavily on his looks and money as a foundation for all of his relationships. She would never have a problem holding her own against powerful men such as Bruce Wayne.

'Funny, I thought my interview would commence at 12:30 instead of 2:30.' She said while glancing at her watch.

'My fault I'm afraid, I wanted to gather all the candidates together beforehand to create an extra bit of tension before they were called into the interview room.'

'How sadistic of you.' Saoirse said bluntly. A ghost of a smile pulled at the corner of his lip but was gone before it could fully form.

'And your name is…?'

'Saoirse. I'll be very impressed if you can spell it.' She said with a challenging tone.

'Let's see… the sound of the word would lead one to believe it is spelt S-E-R-S-H-A but Irish is a tricky language so I'd have to go with S-A-O-I-R-S-E.' Before allowing her disbelief to show on her face, Saoirse put the outstanding accuracy down to viewing her application before approaching her.

'I must say, I was impressed with your dedication to this process.' Bruce Wayne said as he turned and began to make his way back down the hallway. Saoirse realised she had no choice but to follow.

'And what dedication would that be?' She reluctantly asked.

'Submitting your C.V. at 3 in the morning of course. Everyone else handed there's in during the day.'

'It's when I solved the puzzle; I had no choice but to hand it in at that ridiculous hour.'

The two continued in silence while Saoirse took a moment to inspect the famous Prince of Gotham. Though only a few years her senior, they led completely different lives. His calendar was dominated by movie premiers, photo-shoots, sophisticated parties bedecked with various celebrities and deciding which of his supercars he should drive. He had no worries about the future. Saoirse on the other hand had worked herself to the bone in order to put herself through college until achieving a scholarship to cover her PHD. It had been a rough introduction into her twenties.

'Can I ask you a question?' Saoirse ventured.

'Yes I have a butler, no I don't own my own country though I'd certainly like to, yes I have an ice rink at my mansion, yes I own over a hundred supercars and bikes, no I didn't elope to Vegas to get married and most importantly; yes I am single.' Bruce responded smoothly. It took a moment for Saoirse to remember exactly what her question was.

'Actually, my question was to do with the other candidates, I was wondering who broke the window of the Wayne Enterprise building?' Bruce stopped walking and looked at her strangely before chuckling. 'What?' Saoirse asked suspiciously.

'I was pretty certain that wasn't going to be your question… And you should know all about candidate confidentiality. I'm not supposed to answer that question.'

'Ah –'

'But in answer to it, the blonde decided to smash my window.' He said with a sly smile, obviously no stranger to breaking rules. As Bruce Wayne raised his hand to open the door to room eleven, Saoirse caught a glimpse of a Rolex worth more than her car.

'Please, after you. And good luck.' He said with a dangerous smile. Saoirse didn't argue, she entered the office and took a seat opposite Lucius Fox. He was patiently finishing the previous candidate's paperwork before regarding her over the tips of his spectacles. He took them off, allowing them to dangle like some bizarre necklace. Saoirse felt perfectly calm, the warm up with Bruce Wayne had obliterated any nerves of this encounter. She was here in front of her personal idol and she wanted to make sure she didn't leave the room without impressing him. He smiled encouragingly at her as he brought out a familiar shaped object.

'Good afternoon Saoirse Nolan. So you were one of the five to solve this little gem. What did you think of it when you realized what it actually was?'

'I thought it was like a trick question.' Saoirse replied.

'A trick question? How so?'

'The impression given to us was that this puzzle was a highly technological piece of equipment and would need an experts hand in order to solve. In reality it really was what everyone said it was: a puzzle. Or more accurately, a jigsaw puzzle.' Lucius nodded curtly before rolling the sphere over to Saoirse. Reflex made her catch the sphere in the sleeve of her coat, making sure none of her skin was exposed to the metal object.

'You're the first to do that I'll tell you. But you don't need to be afraid of a little shock, this device hasn't been activated.' Saoirse picked up the familiar sphere in her hand. 'Now, would you mind demonstrating how you solved it?' He asked. Saoirse quickly glanced around the office and found a sink a few paces to the left. Lucius regarded her curiously as she filled a basin with cold water and brought it back over to the desk. She held the ball over the water and let it fall beneath the surface. Lucius watched her closely, but questioned nothing, especially when the bubbles started issuing from the sphere. As she had done over a week ago, she identified the crevice where the bubbles had issued from, closed her eyes and felt around with her fingertips for the familiar nook. It took her longer to find this time but certainty that it existed gave her patience and confidence. She prised the piece upwards until it lay in her hand, a curved jigsaw piece.

'And that's how I solved it.' She said.

'Now, did you deliberately put it in the water? Wasn't that a bit of a risky strategy?' Lucius asked.

'It was a product made by Lucius Fox; I didn't believe something as common as water damage would prove much of an obstacle to this particular gadget.' Saoirse said smoothly.

'Alright then, it's certainly a unique take on solving this puzzle. I have a few questions for you regarding the presentation of your C.V.' Saoirse had learnt her C.V off by heart, any question he had would be in her control to answer.

'Now, where did you gain experience for picking door locks?' Lucius asked innocently. Saoirse's stomach dropped, this was not a question she'd been expecting. There was no point in trying to deny the skill so she decided to go with the answer she had given Lisbeth; the truth. After explaining to Lucius that she had acquired the skill from a combination of boredom and internet tutorials, he remained quite perplexed.

'Well, thank you for your honesty. Now… shall we take a quick peek at your C.V?' He opened his left hand drawer and brought out the pages which she had gone to such strenuous lengths to submit. He replaced his spectacles on the bridge of his nose before flipping through the pages. 'Irish-American, 25 years old, coming to the end of your PHD, received top marks in your exams… though I received a rather interesting note from your lecturer, Professor James Andrew. He wrote to tell me you barely attend lectures or tutorials. Is this true?' Mr Fox asked, folding his arms and looking at her expectantly. Saoirse wondered how she should answer, should she be truthful? That she preferred teaching herself the material instead of falling asleep in a lecture theatre? No, she would try a different tact…

'Do you think I cheated on my exams?' She asked bluntly.

'I wouldn't care if you had as I regard cheating as an unappreciated art. What this behaviour demonstrates is your reluctance to stick to a structured system.' Mr Fox said smoothly. 'If you're reluctant to obey the relaxed system which is implemented in college, what would possess you to believe you would be suitable to work under a strict system at Wayne Enterprise?' Saoirse allowed herself a few seconds to gather her thoughts. This was it, the float or sink question, get this wrong the opportunity would disappear. She restrained the urge to rant about what a great opportunity it was and how unbelievable it would be to work in the job her personal idol had just vacated. Once more, she opted for bluntness.

'I can withstand any amount of structure and rules if the job entails the satisfactory level of creative freedom.' She said truthfully.

'Creative freedom? _That's_ the reason you've stuck with this process for so long? What about the facilities you'll be working with or the people you'll be working for? What about the legacy you could leave behind by being the youngest and most successful engineer of your generation?' Lucius Fox asked incredulously.

'If you've done a background check on your candidates then you'll know I started studying Applied Sciences because of you, Mr Fox. Yet regardless of that, I'm not applying for this job because of who my boss will be. I stick to this bizarre process because I know that if I am successful, this occupation would suit me better than any other job. I'd also be bloody excellent at it.' Saoirse added, not quite believing the words had left her mouth. She must appear to be a demented, arrogant candidate now. She'd lost. Oh fiddlesticks, she'd thrown the opportunity out of the window with that ridiculous speech. And she'd sworn at her interviewer too… well not _at _him but her language had certainly been coarse. She waited with clenched teeth and stiff spine to be thrown out of the room as Mr Fox observed her, looking mildly amused.

'Ms Nolan, would you like to see something?' Lucius Fox asked while standing. He walked past his plush leather couch towards a large painting at the back of the room. It was only now that Saoirse recognised the Picasso painting dominating the back wall. It was an original too, not a cheap print. Saoirse didn't leave her seat, unsure of what was going to happen next. Lucius approached the painting and pressed the lower right hand corner of the frame. It clicked and to Saoirse's amazement, the entire painting swung outwards, revealing a private elevator. Saoirse stared in awe at the beautifully hidden lift wondering what mechanism Lucius had triggered upon pressing the corner of the frame.

'I think a visit to the lower levels may be of interest to you.' Mr Fox said as he entered the elevator.

Saoirse stood up uncertainly before following Mr Fox over to the elevator. She hesitated at the lift before balling her hands into fists and stepping into the small space.

'We're headed for my real office now.' Mr Fox said as the elevator closed and began to descend smoothly.

'That wasn't your real office?'

'You honestly thought that's where I spend most of my time? No dear, I need a place where my thoughts have room to breathe.' Mr Fox said as the elevator slowed to a halt. The doors withdrew with nothing but darkness rushing to greet them. 'Lights on.' He said clearly. Saoirse wasn't able to contain a surprised gasp as Mr Fox's "office" was revealed. The ceiling soared upwards and the room sprawled outwards as hidden lights lit up a room the size of a concert hall. She had stepped into a large circular space which was met some fifty feet away by aisles and aisles of storage radiating outwards as far as the eye could see. The circular space was dominated by many different types of equipment ranging from scanning electron microscopes to the latest in military armour resting on smooth working benches. 'See? Thoughts have the freedom to roam around as they please in such a space. Here, this way.' He said walking towards one of the nearest work benches. 'This is a project I've been working on for some time now but due to my recent promotion I have been unable to finish it.' He placed what appeared to be an ordinary gun in front of Saoirse.

'Is it supposed to do anything else apart from the obvious?' Saoirse asked while picking it up.

'Oh yes, you see it doesn't shoot bullets.'

'What does it shoot then?'

'Radiation.'

Saoirse did her best not to drop the weapon. 'A hand gun _shooting _radiation.' She said in disbelief.

'Why yes. Now you can imagine what a devastating weapon it would be once properly designed. You see the problem lies with protecting the shooter once the radiation has been released. It's managing to contain the radiation in a bullet like form after it has left the barrel of the gun.' He said. 'Obviously such a weapon would be highly useful to the army and they have been demanding the completion of this task for the past decade and are becoming rather impatient with me.'

'Is it really that complicated to contain the radiation in a contained form after it leaves the barrel of the gun? I mean the radiation can exist inside the gun in what seems to be a stable state, what makes it so unstable after being released?'

'I said the tricky part was containing the radiation after the trigger had been pulled, I said nothing of it being beyond my knowledge.'

'So you know how to finish this weapon?'

'Oh yes. But you see, in this job there occasionally occurs a conflict of interest. And this conflict stems from the fact that I don't want this piece of machinery to ever reach the army. The damage and lives it would affect could allow its classification to be among weapons of mass destruction.'

Saoirse gently placed the gun down on the table before stepping away from it.

'You must understand dear, what is created in here may be scientifically brilliant, but the consequences of it in the real world could be catastrophic. It is at times such as these that we employ the "indefinitely postponed" technique. Or more colloquially, we place this weapon in the "Never to be finished" pile. Now, I need some time to think about who might be ready to join us here at Wayne Enterprise. I'll show you the way out and if you manage to come back here, it will be for a much more detailed tour. ' Mr Fox said abruptly. He led the way towards a pair of thickly set doors, the type one would usually see guarding a safe in a bank. He entered a code, had his finger prints and retina scanned before the door hissed open. A set of stairs rose up ahead and after several flights, the contemporary lobby came into view. Suddenly realising her strange interview was over; Saoirse turned to Mr Fox and shook his hand. He bid her a safe journey home and strode back down the stairs into his "office". Feeling strangely buoyant, Saoirse left the Wayne Tower, hoping she'd be back again soon.


	5. Chapter 5

During the past week, Saoirse had been back to the boxing gym, receiving more attention from Old Man Jim. The training had increased in intensity but her punches had never been more accurate. She felt more powerful than ever though she needed a good hour to recover after the painful training sessions. He also had her boxing some of the lighter weight men in the gym to allow her a proper taste of a true fight. At first the men had frowned upon her and dismissed her but after proving she was no weakling, they began to take her seriously. After dealing a devastating blow to a boxer's kidney, he retaliated immediately with a punch that left her with a black eye and a dizzy head. For the first time in three years she felt accepted, not ignored by those angry men. The thing she was best at was agility, they could overpower her in seconds with their hulking muscles but she was able to dodge and strike with speed at their momentarily vulnerable areas. She still hadn't won a fight but that was completely irrelevant, she was having a ridiculous amount of fun in that boxing ring. She'd just returned to her dorm room after an eventful training session where she had come exceptionally close to her first victory when Lisbeth screamed upon seeing her.

'THERE you are! I've been trying to call you for the past two hours, where the hell have you been?'

'Boxing.' Saoirse said while raising the gloves.

'And you don't have a phone?'

'It died.'

'Never mind, come in here!' Lisbeth dragged her roommate into the sitting room and plonked her onto the tiny couch.

'A guy called Lucius Fox called for you while you were gone.'

'What?!'

'Exactly! You have to go back into Wayne Towers tomorrow!'

'Wait- what? What did he say, tell me _exactly–_"

'All he said was that you needed to return to Wayne Enterprise tomorrow as you would be going for another interview.'

'_Another _interview?'

'He said he had narrowed it down to two of the original five.'

'There are only two of us left?'

'Yes.'

'Did the other three die or something? Surely their interviews didn't go _that _badly…'

'It seems like they did. Anyway, your competition is Daniel Woods.'

Saoirse was taken aback by this; he had left his interview looking so frustrated. Was it all an act to deceive his competition?

'I know of him Saoirse and I would advise you watch your back.'

'I know of him too Lisbeth, he's in my lectures!'

'Yes, but you never go to your lectures.'

'Only the really important job-offering lectures attract my attention.'

'Listen to me, Daniel Woods is a nasty type of guy, he has no trouble rubbishing his competition or sleeping with the right person to propel his career. He will not allow you to get the upper hand on this interview!'

'Yes, but he also didn't get a personal tour of Lucius Foxes private office.'

'How the hell do you know that?'

'He wasn't in the interview room long enough… But anyway, what time, room and floor do I have to go to tomorrow?'

'Same deal as before apparently.'

'Same time as well?'

'That's what the man said.'

Saoirse glanced at her watch. 'It's late; I should probably go to bed.'

'You probably should. Oh and Saoirse?'

'Yes?'

'If you come home tomorrow without that job, I will kill you. And don't think I wouldn't get away with it, I'm a medicine student taking electives in forensic science.'

'Eh thanks Lisbeth. I think…' Saoirse quickly exited the room and as she lay down in her bed, she tried to ignore fresh thoughts of her roommate being a possible serial killer.

* * *

Once more, Saoirse found herself in front of room eleven on the 85th floor of Wayne Tower. There was no sign of the smooth billionaire today which Saoirse was grateful for. She needed to focus solely on impressing the hell out of Lucius Fox today to make sure there was absolutely _no _chance of Daniel Woods stealing her dream job.

The door opened and a smiling Lucius greeted her. 'Ms Nolan, please come in.'

Instead of sitting behind his desk, he approached the Picasso painting once more. Less than a minute later the two were back in the Applied Science wing far beneath Wayne Towers. Instead of beginning a grand tour, Mr Fox approached a working bench topped with a sleek looking computer.

'Now, over here is a highly sophisticated computer. It contains programmes of such a sophisticated level that if the right person were behind the computer, they could hack into any database in the world. Programmes such as these are conceived here and then sold to governments around the world so they can spy on one another. To access this computer you basically have to be me, you need my finger prints, voice incantation, retinal recognition along with a few other entries.' The computer was turned off and looked innocently at Saoirse's incredulous face.

'So the only way to bypass those security precautions without being you would be to hack into the computer and override the security system?'

'They could try but the virus that would be downloaded would demolish the hacker's computer within ten seconds. It might provide a tricky obstacle.'

'Can I try?' Saoirse asked. Mr Fox regarded her curiously for a moment before chuckling.

'So you're claiming to be able to pick locks on both hardware devices such as doors and software devices like programmes?'

'I suppose we're about to find out… Do you have a laptop I could use which you don't mind getting a little… roughed up?' Saoirse said. Mr Fox raised his eyebrows before pulling out a drawer which held at least twenty different laptops. He selected one which was sleek, light and was by a company Saoirse did not recognise.

'Well if you're going to break one, I suppose this is the least expensive. However, if you manage to override the system and successfully download all the available programmes, you can keep the laptop.'

'How much did this laptop cost?' Saoirse asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

'Roughly $15,000.'

'F-Fifteen grand?'

'Yes but with those hacking programmes it would be worth millions. However if you do succeed, you'll receive the laptop minus the valuable programmes, we don't want you running around breaking into databases illegally and risking the reputation of Wayne Enterprise.'

'I suppose we don't want that.' Saoirse said while turning her laptop on. She opened a window and began typing a series of commands. After pressing enter, the computer she was trying to hack turned on and hummed familiarly. Saoirse cracked her fingers before beginning to guess passwords. She was amazed that her first password attempt worked.

'Really? Your password locking down some of the most important hacking programmes of all time is simply "password"?' Mr Fox didn't respond instead looking over her shoulder as Saoirse gained access to the desktop and began searching for the important programmes. It didn't take long to locate them and after typing in another chain of commands, she pressed enter to download them. That's when the problems began to start. The programme she'd been attempting to download was actually a virus with pieces of the hacking software interwoven to give the appearance of a solid programme. It was a bizarre mutation which would prove horrible to deal with. Saoirse's hands blurred as she typed in command after command to fend off the vicious virus which threatened to overwhelm her system and shut her laptop down for good. After a few minutes of furious typing, the virus stopped downloading. Saoirse breathed a sigh of relief before making a quick inspection of the contents of her laptop. Nothing was too badly damaged and she had managed to download dribs and drabs of the special hacking software. Realising this was going to take a lot longer than previously estimated, she began to run programmes on the type of file she was trying to download. The information she received back was incredibly helpful and she once more typed in commands to try a different way of downloading the expensive programmes.

Time stood still for Saoirse, her concentration so complete she forgot that Mr Fox was watching her every move, discerning her abilities as a computer hacker. What seemed to be seconds passing were actually minutes and as she went through failed idea after failed idea, time flew past. Eventually she struck upon a "eureka" moment and typed in a final series of commands into her laptop. She pressed enter and with shaking nerves, waited for the download to ensue. Nerves jangling, she looked for possible signs of an angry virus trying to tear her laptop apart but it did not arrive. After 30 seconds a dialogue box popped up on the screen telling her the download had been a success. She warily double clicked the imported file, preparing herself for a different virus to come out and play. But it didn't. Ten files presented themselves to her, all the files from the computer she was supposedly unable to hack. She looked over her shoulder to find Mr Fox wearing a stunned smile.

'You did it, you actually hacked in and took the files and left with little to no damage on the computer.' He regarded her with a certain respect when he took the laptop from her grasp.

'Very few people in the world could have achieved what you did. You are aware of this I suppose?'

'It wasn't the virus that was the problem; it was looking for the loophole which took as much time as it did.' Saoirse said truthfully.

'A loophole?'

'Every security programme has a loophole because a human created it and as we are flawed individuals all we create is never going to be perfect. So based on this principal, all that needed to happen was the ability to locate the loophole and then to figure a way through said loophole.' Saoirse explained. She stretched and glanced at her watch, the time taking her breath away. It was half eight meaning it had been over six hours ago since she'd entered Wayne Tower.

'It is getting late isn't it? I didn't want to distract you from what you were doing. We should probably get going.' Mr Fox said. Saoirse nodded while standing up, her back stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. She looked confusedly at Mr Fox as he handed her the laptop.

'But why…?'

'A bet is a bet. You managed to download those files so this laptop is yours.' He said. Saoirse accepted the thin contraption and the safety bag which came with it. It weighed so little compared to her clumpy laptop back at home. Home… Lisbeth! She was probably wondering where the hell she was as she had promised to be back for dinner...

'Now, as impressed as I am with you, I have come to my decision with concerns to the position available here at Wayne Enterprise.' Saoirse held her breath; this is what she had been waiting for. 'You are certainly a remarkable individual and have demonstrated skills beyond those listed on your C.V. However, I am afraid to tell you that you were not successful. Thank you for showing so much enthusiasm for the role and I hope another opportunity finds its way to you soon.' Saoirse caught the disappointment as if a fellow boxer had throttled her in the chest. She hadn't expected to be dismissed so suddenly. But as quickly as the disappointment spread throughout her veins, she managed to recover, to bounce back.

'Wow, Daniel Woods must be a pretty cool candidate. Anyway, thank you for the laptop… and the experience. Your "office" remains quite a marvel. Thank you once more for the opportunity.' Saoirse turned away from Mr Fox and began to walk towards the exit. Some stifled laughter called her attention back to the centre of the room.

'Is something wrong Mr Fox?' She asked awkwardly. He walked towards her, a big smile stretched over his face.

'Ms Nolan, that was the final test, to see if you were a sore loser and you have proved to be a damn gracious one! Congratulations Ms Nolan, you've got the job! Daniel Woods threw a hissy fit when I said he hadn't made the cut, he threatened to sue me and to burn down my office! The ignorance of that young man…'

'I have the job?' Saoirse whispered in disbelief.

'Did you really think I was going to allow one of the most promising computer hackers of all time to walk out of my sight? Yes you have the job! I'll be your boss and then my boss is Mr Wayne. So you're starting far from the bottom of the food-chain. You'll begin as soon as your PHD is finished which I believe is within a few weeks.'

'Oh, that's a risky game you play Mr Fox! T-Thank you s-so much!' Saoirse managed to splutter.

'You're welcome dear. And I look forward to reading your PHD paper when it's published.'

'You and me both… I should probably get home to work on that!'

'Nonsense, tonight is a night of celebration! Run along now, I imagine you'll need a strong drink after that bout of hacking. Which of course is a wise skill to leave absent from your resume.'

Saoirse stumbled from the Applied Science wing of Wayne Enterprise and in what felt to be a giddy short few minutes, she was opening the door to her apartment.

'Lisbeth! Where are you my serial killing roommate?' She hollered.

'Hey, how did it go?' Lisbeth asked.

'You don't have to kill me! I got the job! Let's go celebrate!'

'Yes! One smashed Lisbeth coming up!'

'Yay, I love drunk Lisbeth…'

'Where will we go?' Lisbeth asked.

'Eclipse?'

'It may have a stupid name but it has hot waiters and good music to dance to. Let's go get ready!' In very little time, they were ready to go and took a well-deserved break from study and the stresses of looking for a new job.


	6. Chapter 6

Saoirse had successfully dragged her hammered best friend from the bar but her tipsy senses reminded her about the dilemma of getting home.

'Saoirse, how're we getting home?' Lisbeth slurred.

'Good question.' Saoirse giggled. 'How about a taxi? I think I have enough money to cover the fare…'

'Yay taxi! I love those yellow vehicles… maybe we should buy a taxi instead?'

'Not tonight Lisbeth…' Saoirse said as she hailed a cab. She gave him their address and settled into the back seat, ignoring the urge to fall asleep on Lisbeth's shoulder. It was a horrible night with the rain pounding miserably against the windows, the exact opposite of how Saoirse felt. Ten minutes later the cab slowed and the doors on both sides were opened. Panic flooded through Saoirse's body as two hands grasped her and hauled her out of the taxi. She hit the ground hard while hearing Lisbeth's muffled cries of protest. Already assuming the worst, Saoirse managed to free her right arm and gave an awkward yet stinging punch to her captor. His grip relaxed momentarily and Saoirse quickly rolled away. The taxi sped off as two hooded figures advanced. Heart pounding in her ears, Saoirse raised her fists, sizing up her targets. One was bigger than the other and both were laughing at her stance. The large one approached while hurling his fists in ungracious swings which Saoirse dodged before dealing back a combo of sharp punches. He staggered back, while Saoirse ducked under a lazy kick from the smaller guy. She rebounded upwards with a left hook, her fist smashing under his chin, completely knocking him out. She rounded on her other attacker and waited for him to attack. He didn't disappoint, he lowered his head and charged at her like a crazed rhinoceros. She skipped out of his way before pirouetting and dealing damage to his kidneys. He fell to his knees and Saoirse wasted no time smashing her fist across his face, leaving him face down in a puddle of his own blood. With her immediate attackers eradicated, she searched the alleyway for Lisbeth. She was nowhere to be found and for a chilling moment, Saoirse concluded she'd remained in the taxi. A muffled cry twenty feet to her left proved otherwise. She dashed further into the alleyway and was met by a horrendous sight.

'Saoirse, help me…' Lisbeth cried weakly. The third and final assailant had her pinned against him, a knife teasing her jugular artery. Saoirse stood still; she had absolutely no idea what to do. Panic gripped her as she tried to think about what she could do to save her friend.

'Not another step there sweetheart, unless you want to see your friend get cut.'

'What are you going to do?' Saoirse shouted over the rain as she tried to prolong the conversation with this mad man.

'Well, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to leave with your pretty friend here.'

'Why do you need the knife?'

'Situations such as these usually flow my way when I have a sharp object in hand.' He said while baring yellow teeth.

'Is it money you want?' Saoirse asked, knowing it wasn't.

'Oh no, I want a little something from your friend here which money can't buy. However – you're also quite beautiful. I always liked red hair… so fiery, so passionate. An air of something untamed. You know what? I think I've changed my mind. If you want to save your friend so badly, why don't you offer to take her place?' Lisbeth was completely still, her eyes wide with fear. She'd probably calculated how many seconds it would take for her to bleed out from a sliced jugular.

'Alright… let her go. Take me instead.' Saoirse said, sweeping any panic to the side. The aggressor didn't get a chance to reply as from seemingly nowhere, he was engulfed in a swish of black cape. Saoirse staggered backwards, unable to believe her eyes...

Batman had seemingly fallen from the sky and was trading blows with the yellow teethed man. Though she had never seen a picture of him, she knew it was the living legend. His costume bore an uncanny resemblance to a bat and he had appeared with no warning. Lisbeth crawled to her side, her face streaked with mascara. The two girls huddled together as they witnessed Batman tear into their opponent. He de-knifed him with ease and reigned down a series of blows which seemed to cripple their attacker. In seconds it was over, their attacker lay unconscious on the ground, his face beaten to a pulp.

Saoirse would never forget the moment when Batman looked at her for the first time. Chills chased up and down her spine as she stared at the masked Dark Knight. The rain bounced off his dark armour and his eyes glittered dangerously from behind his mask. He was truly terrifying.

'Thank –'

'You don't have to thank me.' He said in a startlingly deep voice.

'No, I have to.' Saoirse said stubbornly. 'If it weren't for you, one of us would be cut to ribbons by now.' Her head bubbled with questions but before she could ask, a gleam of moving silver caught her eye. Batman miraculously dragged her out of the knife's path and tore after the fourth individual who had thrown it. Time slowed as she turned to see she hadn't been the knife's intended target. The sharp object was buried to the hilt in Lisbeth's stomach, blood staining her white dress. Saoirse let out a silent scream which chased through the streets of Gotham City giving people inexplicable Goosebumps as it passed. She was by her side, sick with fear as she held her friends hand. Lisbeth touched the place where the knife was embedded and lifted up two bloody fingers.

'That's not a good place to be stabbed.' Lisbeth muttered. 'Lots of internal bleeding, too much internal bleeding…'

'Lisbeth, I need you to stay calm...' Saoirse said as a chilling calm stole over her. She knew what she needed to do. She stood up and pelted over to where Batman had just finished off the knife thrower. 'My friend has a knife sticking out of her stomach; I need you to take us to the hospital.' Saoirse said calmly. 'I know she won't make it if we wait for an ambulance to arrive.' She added. She didn't wait for a response; she had no time for arguments. She turned and sprinted back to where Lisbeth's life was slowly ebbing away. She was about to take the knife out when a padded hand stopped her. 'It'll only speed up the bleeding.' He explained. The dark knight ever so gently lifted her up and walked about thirty paces to the right where his car was hidden in shadow. Saoirse had no time to admire the engineering feat as the roof slid off expertly, revealing a complicated looking interior. After placing Lisbeth's now unconscious body into the passenger seat, Batman placed something into Saoirse's hand.

'What's this?' She asked.

'The keys.'

'You're not driving?'

'There are only two seats and I can't drive your friend to the hospital and leave you alone in this part of Gotham. There's a state of the art GPS system which will guide you to Gotham General. I'll meet you there.' The freezing calm stole through her once more and she didn't hesitate before leaping into the driver's seat. If this is what needed to happen to save her friend's life then Saoirse would cope. She glanced up to see Batman disappearing towards the rooftops of Gotham City.

'That's something you don't see every day…' She muttered. She didn't allow herself to look at Lisbeth's deathly pale face as she managed to start the car/tank. The beast leapt forwards and as Batman had described, a GPS system was soon guiding her towards Gotham General. She pulled out of the labyrinth of small streets onto the motorway, the car continuing to increase in speed. The power below her fingertips triggered an incredible adrenaline rush, focusing her senses and allowing her to drive with clinical precision. For such a clumpy looking car, it was beautiful to manoeuvre and Saoirse found herself weaving in and out of traffic much to the disbelief of her fellow drivers. 'Hang on Lisbeth, just hang on.' Saoirse muttered as she continued to push the car forwards. It never properly registered that she was driving the bat-mobile, her thoughts were fully bent on getting her friend to the hospital.

A speedy few minutes later, Saoirse skidded to the front of Gotham General and leapt out of the car towards the entrance. Doctors and nurses stared at her with open jaws but she did not care. 'I NEED SOME HELP PLEASE! MY FRIEND HAS RECEIVED A STAB WOUND TO HER LOWER ABDOMINAL AREA ROGHLY TEN MINUTES AGO!' She roared. Two doctors and some ambulance medics recovered first and quickly followed her out with a trolley bed. They quickly transported Lisbeth from the car onto the trolley and wheeled her inside. Saoirse followed them as the doctors shouted facts about her condition to one another and rushed her into theatre. Saoirse wasn't allowed to follow them in; her way was blocked by an impressively big nurse who insisted she was checked for shock. Saoirse shook her off but suddenly didn't know what she should do. Every fibre in her body had been focused on bringing Lisbeth to the hospital and now that she had, she felt completely useless.

'Honey, you've done your best now let the surgeons do their job.' The nurse said while returning to the reception area. Saoirse sat, completely numb not having a clue what she should do with herself. Lisbeth had been stabbed in the stomach and was currently fighting for her life on an operating table. How had this happened from getting into a taxi?

'Honey? Were you the girl who came in the eh… tank?' The large nurse asked her. Saoirse nodded, the key still clenched tightly in her palm. 'I just thought you should know the police have it surrounded outside.' Saoirse jumped up and raced outside to find the nurse's words to be true. Four cops had their guns raised and pointed at the Bat-mobile. One of them was speaking into a megaphone: 'Step out of your vehicle!'

Saoirse stepped forward in front of the cops and unlocked the car before their eyes, revealing an empty interior. All of the guns were suddenly pointed at her.

'Yes, because I am _clearly _Batman, what fantastic deductive skills you have!' She said sarcastically. The sergeant made everyone lower their guns.

'What's your name sweetie?'

Saoirse said the first name which came into her head. 'Veronica Byrne.'

'And how is it you came into possession of this vehicle Ms Byrne?'

'I was given the keys.'

'By who?'

'By the Batman.' She said simply.

'Do you know where the vigilante is now? He is wanted for multiple counts of grievous bodily harm among many other charges.'

'If I did, I wouldn't tell you.'

'I'm sure you don't mean that Ms Byrne, that would be called obstruction of justice.'

'Oh I mean it, and you know why? Because tonight when my best friend had a knife pressed against her throat, who came and saved us? Was it the police of Gotham City? No, it was the Batman. And he was so focused on getting my friend and me to safety that he offered me his car so I could drive her to the hospital instead of leaving me alone in a dangerous part of Gotham City.' The police remained silent for a moment before the sergeant recovered.

'Nevertheless, he shouldn't be allowed to simply –'

'I don't think you understand. If you don't let me leave in this car and give it back to its rightful owner, I will have no problem kicking all of your asses. I'd like to remind you that it was my friend who had the knife against her throat not _mine_.'

'Ms Byrne, you really can't expect us to simply let you drive away in the vigilante's car, be reasonable –'

'I am being reasonable. My friend is fighting for her life on that operating table and right now, I don't need to deal with this bullshit. I've been through enough for one night.' Saoirse made her way over to the car, ignoring the guns trained on her. She sat into the driver's seat and looked expectantly at the cops as the roof slid into place. She put the car into reverse, and sped out of the hospital car park.

To their credit, the police did not follow her.

She looped around Gotham General before parking in a deserted alleyway across from the hospital. She sat back and for the first time had a proper look around the interior of the infamous Bat-mobile. Buttons and levers bedecked every available surface, carrying out mysterious functions Saoirse was itching to discover. The worry about Lisbeth still gnawed at her stomach but it was less severe than before, as she knew the surgeons would do their utmost to protect her friend's life. She continued to wait, some part of her knowing that Batman would show up in a darkened alleyway over a well-lit hospital.

Without her touching anything, the roof began to retreat above her head and the Batman came into view. Saoirse couldn't believe how well the mask concealed his identity. A good section of the chin and mouth could be seen and slits were available for his eyes. If she'd met him before without the mask, she wouldn't be able to recognise him beneath this disguise.

'How is she?'

'In surgery. We'll see how she does in a couple of hours.' Words were lost when trying to articulate the boiling cauldron of emotions swirling throughout her. She managed to haul herself out of the car and was amazed to find her legs strong enough to support her. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, she felt completely and utterly destroyed.

'You shouldn't have done that.'

'Done what?' She asked wearily.

'That stint with the police. It was… unnecessary.'

'I had to give you your car back and I couldn't do that in front of the police. It's an engineering marvel by the way.' She added drowsily while reluctantly handing over the keys.

'I'm sorry.'

'For saving my life? Yeah you should be sorry...'

'It's because of me your friend is hurt.'

'No, it's because of you she has a chance to survive.'

'But that's not good enough!' he roared to the surrounding night. Saoirse stepped backwards, her pupils dilated with fear. The two regarded each other carefully for a moment, Saoirse doing her best to hold his angry stare. He suddenly turned and stepped back into his car, his frustration evident through his body language. As he was disappearing from view, Saoirse knew it would be the last time she would ever set eyes on the living legend. She noticed something glinting on the ground and stooped to pick it up. It was a throwing star in the shape of a bat. 'Hey! You forgot your –' But the rest of her sentence was drowned as the engine roared to life and the car disappeared down the alleyway at a frightening speed. Saoirse stared after the vehicle in awe and allowed a weary smile to pull at her lips.

'Thank you.' She whispered and slipped the bat-shaped weapon into her pocket.


	7. Chapter 7

Bruce Wayne was exhausted. The bats overhead had settled after his noisy arrival, their black bodies hanging limply from the ceiling. He stared at them for a moment, doing his best to dismiss a shudder triggered by his childhood fear. Slowly, he removed his padded suit and mask before surveying the damage inflicted to his body. A dark bruise blossomed on his right shoulder and a knife had nicked him across his ribcage. Upon closer inspection, he found the cut to be shallow, not requiring stiches.

'Another bruise to add to your collection, Master Wayne?' Bruce raised his gaze and smiled slightly at his faithful butler.

'Why're you up so late Alfred?'

'Well I was sleeping soundly sir, but one of those blasted alarms of yours pestered me to come down into this dreary cave. Upon finding the alarm's source, it came to my attention someone else was driving your car which I found rather peculiar. It wouldn't do for Batman to have his car stolen now would it?'

'It wasn't stolen Alfred.' Bruce said while putting away his suit.

'Did you rent it out then sir?'

'Circumstances demanded a spot of creative problem-solving. It was the only way I could put the situation right.' He began to place his weapons back in their rightful places. He frowned upon realising one of his bat-shaped throwing stars was missing.

'What was wrong with it in the first place sir?'

'I misjudged a situation and a girl was stabbed.' Bruce said in a small voice. Alfred remained quiet. He knew Bruce Wayne better than anyone and predicted he would tell the story without any prompting. 'I thought both of the girls were safe when suddenly a new attacker hurled a knife at them. I dragged one out of the knife's path, consequently exposing the other. I couldn't take the stabbed girl to hospital and leave the other in that dangerous part of Gotham City, that's why I offered the car. I should have realised there was another person there Alfred. Why didn't I realise…'

'You're not perfect Master Wayne. Which hospital did the lady drive to?'

'Gotham General.'

'We'll have a look at their database to see how her friend is doing.' Alfred said before turning on a nearby computer and hacking into the hospital's database.

'Do you remember her name sir?'

'Lisbeth, I didn't catch her second name.' Alfred typed in a series of commands before pressing enter.

'You can rest easy Master Wayne, her surgery was a success and she's in a stable condition.' Alfred said. A knot slowly began to unwind in Bruce's stomach. He breathed a sigh of relief, expelling the tension from his body. He approached the computer and logged into his Wayne Enterprise account. A message from Lucius Fox immediately caught his attention.

'It seems Lucius has finally chosen his successor.' Bruce mused while scrolling through the e-mail.

'Has he decided how much knowledge this new successor should be empowered with?'

'Not yet, though he says she impressed him greatly. The e-mail says she managed to break into our most stable computer and extract all of our prestigious software… from a laptop? That is impressive.'

'Regardless of her hacking abilities, how does Lucius know if he can trust her?'

'He doesn't, the candidate has merely passed the entrance exam. He'll be testing her for more personal characteristics as time goes on.' He scrolled down until a picture of Saoirse appeared on the screen.

'Well, she's much… youngerthan I expected.' Alfred said.

'I'm sure _younger_ wasn't the term you were looking for.' Bruce said with a slight smile. 'I've only met her twice but she certainly left an impression after each encounter.'

'Twice sir?'

'Yes. First before her initial interview, I surprised her in a manner signature of playboy Bruce Wayne and she didn't bat an eyelid. It was so refreshing to meet someone who didn't tread on egg shells around me. The second encounter took place a few hours ago; she was the lady I handed my keys over to.'

'Ms Nolan drove the tumbler?'

'Yes, and she was so c_alm _throughout the entire situation. When I proposed that she drive it, she simply took my keys and got on with it.'

'Humans respond in marvellous ways to stressful situations Master Wayne.'

'You know what else she did Alfred? After her friend had been admitted, she returned to find police about to take possession of the tumbler. Just as I was about to step in… she defended me. She admonished them for their absence while they had guns trained on her. Then she called their bluff, stepped into the car and drove off.'

'It seems Ms Nolan may be a very suitable successor for Lucius in the intellectual _and_ loyalty department.'

'Alfred, what someone does when they are oblivious to the truth does not provide an accurate prediction of their actions after they have been enlightened.'

'I'd have to disagree with you there sir, it seems she obviously shares your principles.'

'She was defending me because I saved her life, not because of the principles which define Batman.'

'Batman is in search of justice Master Wayne; and it seems Saoirse Nolan understood and appreciated what Batman stood for.'

'Then we agree to disagree.' Bruce said abruptly while logging off his account.

'Bed, Master Wayne?'

'In a minute… Alfred, can you make sure you dispose of these?' Bruce handed over a few video tapes.

'What are they sir?'

'Nothing of concern, as long as they are obliterated.'

'Absolutely sir, I'll place them in the incinerator now.' Alfred approached a heavy looking door with a curious handle which he fiddled with for a moment before wrenching open. A blast of heat met his tired face and he threw the tapes into the flaming cavern, their plastic immediately beginning to melt.

'Thank you Alfred.' Bruce said while stifling a yawn.

'You need your rest sir; tomorrow your boxing instructor is coming round. Remind me again why you've been pursuing this particular form of training for the past month?'

'As I have no other martial art to conquer Alfred, I need to keep learning new material.'

'Very well sir.' The two approached the concealed elevator and rose smoothly into Wayne Mansion. Bruce dismissed his butler and headed to his spacious room for some rest. He sat at the foot of his bed, slowly emptying his mind of the past frantic hours and focused on relaxing every muscle in his body. After twenty minutes of this disciplined meditation, he calmly approached his bed and disappeared into sleep beneath the Egyptian cotton.

* * *

The heartbeat was a beautiful, majestic thing which Saoirse had only come to appreciate in the past few hours. She watched the screen monitoring Lisbeth's heart-rate, feeling relief whenever the line was punctured with a dip. Her best friend's face was rosy instead of deathly pale, with eyes open instead of permanently sealed.

'I think we should have a designated driver from now on.' Lisbeth suggested.

Saoirse nodded, wondering if she would ever get into a taxi again. 'I called your parents, they're on their way.'

'You didn't.'

'I had to, you were _stabbed _Lisbeth. They're concerned –'

'They're concerned I won't be able to finish my medical degree and become a top class surgeon.' Lisbeth spat. Saoirse didn't respond, knowing Lisbeth's relationship with her parents was strained at best.

'So, how am I?' She asked, blatantly changing the subject.

'The doctor hasn't been back since you woke up.'

'Well, read my chart.'

Saoirse retrieved the chart from the end of the bed, not expecting to understand the complicated charts and scrawls on the page. She frowned upon seeing the information.

'What… is something wrong?'

'It seems you received a stab wound to your lower left abdominal area with a sharp, unclean knife. You're on antibiotics to prevent any infection and you have twenty-seven stitches sowing up the wound. You suffered quite intense internal bleeding hence why you're wired to some donor blood at the moment but no organs were damaged.'

'Well that's a relief.'

'How the hell can I understand this information? I don't study medicine.'

'But you have a roommate who does.'

'True, but I didn't realise I'd be able to recall all the information you told me… Anyway, if I managed to read your chart correctly, it seems you'll be alright. Do you have any pain?'

'Some but this morphine drip is brilliant; I think I should get stabbed more often…' She said while resting against the crisp white pillows.

'Well that's an unexpected turn in events, you get stabbed and turn into a junkie. I have to admit, I did not see this coming…'

Lisbeth ignored her while peeking beneath her paper top, revealing sterile bandages firmly wrapped around her midriff. She touched them thoughtfully before fear creased her brow.

'What happened?' She whispered.

'Well, what do you remember?'

'We were attacked… then you were punching the _crap _out of two guys and then… I had a knife pressed to my neck. Before anything else happened, a weight fell on the scum holding me, allowing me to roll away… Hang on. That wasn't a weight! That was –'

'Batman.' Saoirse finished quietly.

'He was talking to you… and then he pulled you out of the way and suddenly there was this searing pain in my stomach…'

'Do you remember how you got here?' Saoirse asked. Lisbeth shook her head. 'Well… I drove you.' Saoirse finished telling the story to her shocked roommate, including the details about having a shouting match with the police and returning the car to Batman. When finished, Lisbeth looked worryingly pale.

'You see? This is the reason Batman is such a notorious vigilante! Look at the mess he got us in!'

'Lisbeth, what are you talking about, he saved our lives!'

'I was stabbed in the stomach and you were arguing with the police about obstruction of justice while they had guns trained on you!'

'Don't do that.'

'Do what?'

'Focus only on the negative Lisbeth; we'd both be dead or wishing for death if Batman hadn't come.'

'You just keep telling yourself that.' Lisbeth said frostily while upping the dose on her morphine drip. Soon her eyes closed and she slipped off into a drug-induced sleep. Saoirse glared at her sleeping friend, furious at her reaction to the night's events. How dare she blame the one person who had saved them, how _dare _she? Her attention was distracted when the large nurse pulled aside the curtains and approached the bed.

'Honey, there are some policemen at reception wanting to ask the girl who brought this patient in some questions. Now I don't know much but I know this; they don't want information about the scum who stabbed your friend.' She raised an eyebrow meaningfully. 'Now I'll make sure your friend is looked after until her parents get here, but I would suggest you make a quick exit.' Saoirse stared at the nurse, completely dumbfounded. After all she had been through, the cops wanted to talk with her? She remembered the shouting match she'd had with them and fresh dread flooded her body. Lecturing the police on their lack of resilience followed by a quick exit in Batman's car wasn't the smartest idea she'd ever had. It seemed she had a choice to make: Stay here and be taken down to the station where she would be grilled by the police for hours, or return to her apartment and figure things out. Saoirse knew one thing: she was in no fit condition to hold her own against the policemen she'd just humiliated. She squeezed Lisbeth's hand before exiting the ward, making sure to avoid the reception area. It took her a tense five minutes to find an alternative exit to the lobby but she burst down an emergency stairwell with another rush of adrenaline.

Once out in the cold morning air, the problem of getting home presented itself. Dawn was at least an hour away and she was _not _getting into a taxi. Across the street she spotted a twenty-four hour café and gratefully loped inside. After ordering some tea, she sat in the almost deserted shop, planning to remain there until it was bright enough to walk home. The news channel was her only distraction from her current predicament so she turned her attention to the hazy TV. An immaculately groomed female anchor looked as if she'd received the story of her career. 'Welcome back Gotham, I'm Miranda reporting to you live this early morning about a dramatic car chase involving Batman's car and a race against time to get an injured girl to hospital.' Saoirse nearly dropped her mug. 'The most interesting part of this story is the absence of the caped crusader as CCTV shows his famous car pulling up to Gotham General and a girl leaving the driver's seat, calling for help. In the passenger seat is an unconscious female who received a stab wound to the lower abdominal area that was taken immediately to theatre. Now a few minutes later, the female driver returns to see the police attempting to take the car away. She proceeds to engage in aggressive conversation, causing the police to draw their weapons. Despite the policemen's stance, the girl is seen getting back into the car and driving away. Here's what Sergeant Jackson had to say about the situation.' Saoirse immediately recognised Sergeant Jackson; his incredulous face as she'd chastised the police was not one she could easily forget.

'Police are appealing for witnesses who can identify this girl as she is believed to know the identity of Batman. Unfortunately, no photo can be provided of the girl as the CCTV tapes recording the goings on inside the hospital have been removed and the cameras outside show her cloaked in shadow. She's female, Caucasian, red-haired, pale skinned and in her early to middle twenties. Her name is Veronica Byrne. If you see her, make sure to call this hotline.'

Saoirse's tea was forgotten. She gaped at the TV screen, unable to comprehend the broadcast. The police had proclaimed that she, Saoirse Nolan, knew the identity of the Batman. The statement wasn't completely out of the question, she _had _arrived in Batman's car yet she had no idea whose face lay beneath that mask. Yet, now that she thought about it, the identity of Batman wasn't Gotham's number one priority, so why the detailed broadcast to chase down a possible lead on the dark knight?

Sweat dripped down her back when she arrived at the answer: It was to find her. She'd humiliated the police. The police did not take kindly to humiliation, hence the release of her false name and physical appearance to the public. She leant back in her booth and closed her eyes, contemplating the situation she was in. Not only had she dealt with the trials of being ambushed and transporting her friend to hospital, she was now the centre of a manhunt. On the positive side, the police knew not her real name or had a picture of her to show on the news. She didn't know how he'd managed it, but Batman had stolen those CCTV tapes, temporarily shrouding her identity. However, there was one simple solution to the Policemen's predicament: wait until Lisbeth woke up. She would unknowingly fill the gaps in their knowledge.

Saoirse slowly tied her hair back and pulled up the hood of her jumper to conceal her ginger locks. She was lucky the waiter looking after the café had been listening to music and wiping down the surfaces, instead of listening to the broadcast. She waited a tense ten minutes in the coffee shop to make sure it didn't look like she was leaving because of the broadcast. Once outside, she searched around for a way to get home. A couple of streets over she saw a bicycle locked against a post. After fishing around in her purse Saoirse found her trusty lock pick. It only took a few seconds to liberate the bike and soon she was peddling towards home, the early morning breeze beautiful against her worried cheeks. She felt no guilt about stealing the bike, reasoning that she deserved a way home outside of walking.

She eventually made it back to the safety of her apartment where she sat down on the cold floor, waiting for her heart to slow. As her breathing slowed, her thoughts increased. She closed her eyes in a vain attempt to calm her frantic thoughts but her concentration was interrupted by something sharp digging into her leg. After fishing in her pocket, the culprit turned out to be the bat shaped throwing star she had picked up earlier. It lay innocently in the palm of her hand, a memento of the longest night of her life. The cool metal soothed her stressed mind, allowing her to think clearly and rationally. For hours Saoirse watched the rays of light stretch across the apartment, her mind considering all possibilities from never leaving her apartment again to jumping on a boat to Cuba. Around half five her exhausted brain gave up. She slumped against the door, her body welcoming the uncomfortable sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Bruce Wayne did not enjoy the morning news. A manhunt had been organised for Saoirse Nolan and the police were appealing to witnesses for information. They were without her real name and picture yet Bruce knew it would not take long for the police to acquire the correct facts. He drummed his fingers on the silver breakfast tray, annoyed at the police for harassing an innocent citizen. Instead of rewarding Saoirse Nolan with a medal for outstanding bravery, they were broadcasting her profile as if she were a serial killer. She happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time – driving the wrong car. The police should be looking for the thugs who ambushed Saoirse and Lisbeth yet they were prioritising being publically humiliated. And they wondered why Gotham's crime rate was so high…

As he did his morning exercises, his thoughts focused on Saoirse's next move. Lucius had given the impression of a highly intelligent woman and he'd seen her perform under immense pressure the night before. However, Bruce was conscious of a person's breaking point which everyone, including Saoirse had. Would she cope with the escalation of events or would she crumble beneath the burden?

'Master Wayne, your boxing instructor has arrived.' Alfred announced.

'Send him into the gym and tell him I'll join him shortly.'

'Very well sir.'

He entered a sinfully large bathroom, splashing his face with stinging cold water. He regarded his reflection in the mirror, wondering what he would do if he were in Saoirse's position. There were the usual thoughts; leaving the country, changing his identity, providing a false alibi… Then it hit him. He suddenly knew exactly what Saoirse would do. His epiphany was near certain yet he had to be sure. Bruce hurried from the bathroom and quickly approached the pantry.

'Master Wayne, should you not be in the gym? Your trainer is waiting for you.'

'Alfred, distract him for me would you? I have something which I need to do.'

'He's travelled an awfully long way to train you sir.'

'This is important.'

'How long will I be distracting him for sir?'

Bruce furrowed his brow before dismissing his calculations.

'Send him home Alfred, tell him I'm sick or I've eloped with a model to Paris for the weekend.'

'I'd say he'd believe the latter over the former sir.' Bruce allowed a quick smile before pushing in the three handles on a heavily laden dresser. The handles popped out and the dresser moved to the side on well-oiled hinges.

'Is there anything else you need sir?'

'I'll call if I need anything.' He disappeared inside the exposed passageway for a couple of paces before descending a set of spiral stairs into the depths of Wayne Mansion. After a dizzy dismount, Bruce found himself back in his bat covered cavern. He sat behind an impressive looking computer and cracked his knuckles impatiently as it turned on. After unlocking the encrypted system, Bruce started typing commands into the computer, wondering if the results would support or dismiss his epiphany.

* * *

'Can I help you?' A receptionist asked, not looking up from his computer.

'I was hoping you could direct me to Sergeant Jackson.'

'Do you have an appointment?'

'Not exactly…'

'Well you'll have to make one and come back another day. He's in the middle of a case at the moment and won't be free for the next few weeks. What's your name?'

'It's Veronica Byrne.' The receptionist slowly raised his head, his blue eyes widening when he noted the red hair, pale skin and height of the woman before him. 'I'm sure you've watched the news and know the sergeant is intent on having a chat with me.' Saoirse continued calmly. 'So if you wouldn't mind notifying him of my arrival, I would be most appreciative.'

It took the receptionist five long seconds to react. 'Why yes, I-I'll inform him right now… How about you stay right there and I'll call you an escort. Officer Smith! Would you mind escorting _Veronica Byrne_ to the fifth floor? She needs to meet with Sergeant Jackson asap.' Much to Saoirse's surprise, Smith was an officer who commanded the physique of an Olympic athlete, not a donut loving policeman. She followed him into a nearby elevator, noting how he used a key to activate the panel of buttons. As soon as the doors closed, he lost his professional composure and excitedly turned towards her.

'Did you really drive Batman's car?' He gushed in a voice far too squeaky to match his muscled exterior. Saoirse looked at him strangely before gifting him with a curt nod. As the lift lethargically climbed the floors, Officer Smith refrained from asking more questions though his eyes brimmed with excitement. The fifth floor greeted Saoirse with eerie silence; no phones were ringing, no people were completing paperwork in fact; Saoirse couldn't see anyone at all. Officer Smith marched her towards the end of the corridor and Saoirse had the impression she was being watched by hidden eyes. She ignored the concealed audience and continued towards a set of interview rooms labelled A and B. Interview room A was where she sat on a rickety seat, waiting for the arrival of Sergeant Jackson. Officer Smith stood guard at the door but he was wasting his time. Saoirse had no plans of running away; after hours of debating, this was the decision she had come to for a number of reasons. Firstly, the police would never expect her to saunter into Gotham's police station to have a chat. This put power in Saoirse's hands as she was here under her own free will, not under arrest. Secondly, entering the police station showed she had nothing to hide. Dyeing her hair, changing her name and fleeing the country would naturally make the Police suspicious. Thirdly, by volunteering her story instead of being forced to confess, the Police would understand the stressful ordeal she had undergone and would accept that she did not know Batman's identity. Saoirse felt strangely relaxed as she waited for the sergeant, comfortable that she had put herself into this situation. In fact, Saoirse realised that for some bizarre reason, she was looking forward to the encounter.

* * *

'Your trainer has been sent home Master Wayne though I must admit, he was rather disgruntled.'

'You of all people should know when an emergency crops up, I'm obliged to respond.'

'And what emergency is this sir?'

'Haven't you seen the news Alfred?'

'I have sir, but I was hoping you hadn't.'

Bruce had stopped typing; he was waiting for the arrival of an important file.

'Alfred, if you were a law-abiding citizen of Gotham who was falsely accused of possessing vital information for an important case, what would you do?'

'Well sir, I would bloody well tell them I didn't possess such knowledge.'

'Which is exactly the course of action I believe Saoirse has taken.'

'You think she's gone to the Police headquarters?'

'Yes.'

'Well if she has, what could you possibly do about it?' A beep distracted Bruce Wayne and he quickly clicked on the imported file.

'Remember the hacking software I told you about stored on a top security computer in Wayne Tower?'

'The programme Ms Nolan managed to download from a laptop?'

'These are the files she successfully stole.'

'I thought those files could only be accessed from the Applied Sciences computer.'

'As you know Alfred, I'm also an accomplished hacker.'

'You broke into your own computer and stole your own software sir?'

'Yes, I have no time to travel to Wayne Tower and invent an extravagant story to tell Lucius about why I need this software.'

'But what will you do with the programme sir?'

'This.' Bruce typed in a final command and pressed the return key. Suddenly all available monitors were transmitting CCTV images of what appeared to be the inside of a Police building.

'Live footage and audio of every single room from the reception to the holding cells of Gotham's Police Headquarters.'

'Impressive… But how do you know she'll be arriving at this building sir?'

'Sergeant Jackson gave the press statement last night and this is his station. Saoirse will want to speak directly to him, so she'll come here.' The two watched the screens for a moment, looking for any sign of the girl.

'But sir; what will you do once she enters the building?'

'Nothing.'

'Nothing sir?'

'Well Alfred, there's nothing Batman or Bruce Wayne can do to aid Saoirse at the moment. I can observe how the situation unfolds and take action afterwards but for now, we watch. Pull up a chair; I imagine we'll be here for a while.'

'Perhaps Master Wayne would appreciate some popcorn?'

'No thank you.' Bruce said while chuckling.

A couple of hours later, Alfred tapped the top right hand screen. 'Master Wayne, Interview room A. She's just been escorted in.' Bruce Wayne snapped awake, shocked that he'd fallen asleep. He quickly switched the interview room to the main screen and put on a pair of headphones just as Sergeant Jackson walked in. He sat in front of Saoirse but it was who sat beside the sergeant that interested Bruce.

'That's Lieutenant Briggs. What the hell is Briggs doing in an interview room…?' Bruce muttered while leaning forward. Alfred didn't have time to answer before the speakers crackled to life.

'Veronica Byrne, I'm Sergeant Jackson and this here is Lieutenant Briggs. I must admit, we're surprised to see you this morning.'

'I've nothing to hide.' Saoirse replied calmly.

'We'll see about that. Now, is it true that at approximately 2:30am this morning you approached Gotham General in Batman's car?' Lieutenant Briggs asked.

'Yes.'

'Now would you mind telling us why you were in this car in the first place?'

Saoirse recounted the details of the night before, her voice threatening to break at one point but she managed to pull herself together. She even showed the men the bruises on her knuckles which had resulted from knocking two of the thugs unconscious.

'I have to say Ms Byrne, that's quite a story you have there.' Briggs said.

'Would you please stop calling me that, my name is not Veronica Byrne.'

'It isn't?'

'No, it's Saoirse Nolan.'

'And why did you lie to the police about your identity Ms Nolan? Something to hide?' Briggs asked suspiciously.

'I was incredibly stressed, I'd just been attacked by a group of thugs and then had to reason with the police. I wasn't in the mood to trust anyone at that particular moment.'

'You _lied _to the police Ms Nolan; I can't stress how serious that is.'

'I agree with you, I wasn't thinking rationally last night hence why I came down to the station this morning to correct my mistake.'

'Be that as it may, you lied to us once, why should we believe any part of your story?'

'My best friend is recovering from surgery after receiving a stab-wound to her lower abdominal area. She was attacked, that's fact not fiction.'

'And Batman happened to be in the right place at the right time to help you?'

'Yes.'

'I don't believe you. I'm sorry to hear about your friend Ms Nolan but I think you called the Batman for help. I think you know his true identity.'

'I've no idea who he is. Feel free to strap me to a lie detector but I don't know whose face lies beneath that mask.'

'Here's why I believe you know the Batman's true identity: no-one and I mean _no-one _has ever driven Batman's car before. '

'Actually Lieutenant, that's not true.' Everyone turned to see Commissioner Gordon enter the interview room. 'Back in 2005, I drove Batman's car during the water supply epidemic. Afterwards, I don't remember being grilled by my fellow policemen about knowing Batman's true identity.'

'Yes but Commissioner, that was a _completely _different situation, what you did was heroic! But Ms Nolan _lied _to us –' Lieutenant Briggs began.

'She lied about her name when policemen had guns trained on her! I'm surprised Ms Nolan didn't leap forward and attack your men Sergeant.'

'But sir, how can you believe her story?'

'Like the policeman I am, I went to Gotham General and questioned Ms Nolan's wounded friend who is recovering from a serious operation. She verified the story of being attacked, including the arrival of Batman. She blacked out just before being placed into Batman's car. However, if this alibi doesn't convince you, I'll signal for the Batman later and he can verify Ms Nolan's story! But for now, she's free to go.'

'But Commissioner, we still have more questions –'

'I was under the impression Ms Nolan voluntarily came into the station after seeing her information broadcast on the news last night. She is under no legal obligation to answer any of your questions as neither of you have grounds to arrest her.' Jackson and Briggs stared sulkily at the table in front of them, not daring to argue with their boss.

'Now Ms Nolan, if you would follow me, I'll accompany you downstairs.' Saoirse pushed back her chair and quietly followed the Commissioner outside. Bruce Wayne quickly changed the main screen to show the fifth floor hallway and continued to listen in on the conversation.

'I apologise for the rash behaviour of my men Ms Nolan, they were completely unsympathetic towards you and the traumatic events you suffered last night.' Commissioner Gordon muttered.

'I wasn't expecting a warm welcome Commissioner.' Saoirse responded.

'I've made sure the media stopped broadcasting your profile to Gotham City. I need to have a chat with my men about that little stunt as I wasn't consulted about it…' Bruce immediately swapped the elevator feed to the main screen as the two entered the small lift.

'I don't mean to alarm you Ms Nolan, but these taxi attacks have spiked in the last few weeks. We're trying to sort it out but until we do –'

'You don't need to worry Commissioner, I'm not sure I'll ever get into a taxi again.' They had stepped into the reception area and the Commissioner escorted her to the front door.

'You did the right thing by coming into the station to tell your story. You made sure to correct what appears to be your only error from a horrific night.'

'You really believe me.' Saoirse said with a small smile.

'I know Batman a little better than my colleagues; and what you described fits with behaviour I have witnessed myself. I wish your friend the speediest of recoveries and all I'll say to you is this: it's finally over. Go home, get some well-deserved rest and I highly commend your outstanding bravery. Are you sure you wouldn't have an interest in joining the police?'

'Not in the near future. Thank you Commissioner.' Commissioner Gordon nodded to her as Saoirse left the building. Bruce took off his headphones while biting the side of his thumb thoughtfully.

'Well, that was interesting sir. It seemed everything turned out in Ms Nolan's favour.'

'It seems that way Alfred but I have to be sure. The sergeant and lieutenant weren't as convinced as Commissioner Gordon; I may have to pay them a visit.'

'Tonight sir?'

'Tonight. I'll keep it short and sweet.'

'I didn't think Batman did any other type of visit, Master Wayne.'

'Well that's this evening sorted… remind me what function Bruce Wayne has pending on his itinerary for today?'

'I believe you're invited to a prestigious charity lunch and are expected to give a speech about your handsome contribution sir.'

'How handsome are we talking?'

'$100,000.'

'Right, I'll need to get changed and make a stylish entrance signature of Bruce Wayne. Ready my sports car Alfred.'

'You'll have to be a little more specific Master Wayne.'

'The Lamborghini.'

'Ah yes, very well sir. I'll have it purring at the front door.'

'In terms of fun, I imagine the drive in will outweigh the dry company at this charity lunch.'

'I'm sure the ladies present will try to convince you otherwise sir.'


	9. Chapter 9

Three weeks had passed since Saoirse had been attacked and today was the first morning she woke up with something to look forward to: her first day working at Wayne Tower. Her good spirits were dampened upon seeing her roommate clumsily making tea in the kitchen. Lisbeth had returned from hospital a week ago but the violent encounter and Batman's intervention had left an ugly scar on their friendship. Saoirse knew their relationship would heal with time but she realised their friendship would never return to carefree normality.

'I'm going into Wayne Enterprise today.' Saoirse said awkwardly.

'Oh yeah. Have a great first day.' Lisbeth said half-heartedly. The two girls let the silence stretch, Saoirse desperately hoping Lisbeth might break it. Her roommate did no such thing; she shuffled past Saoirse and sat on the couch, flicking on the TV. Saoirse stared at her best friend, terrified that she would remain in this trance-like state forever. Lisbeth; who had once been so outgoing, was reluctant to leave the apartment for even the shortest of journeys. However, she didn't have time to play therapist with Lisbeth, she had to go. She couldn't be late for her first day.

After a twenty minute drive, Saoirse once more found herself in the modern lobby of Wayne Tower. She spotted Mr Fox waiting outside the entrance to the Applied Science division and hurried over.

'Good morning, Ms Nolan.'

'Morning Mr Fox.'

He scanned his fingerprints and retina before entering a code onto the keypad attached to the wall. The doors hissed inwards and Saoirse was greeted by the mammoth wing of Applied Sciences.

'This way Ms Nolan, I believe it's time you received the grand tour.' Saoirse followed Mr Fox into the maze of storage aisles, their contents a beautiful mystery. 'As you can see, there are many storage areas in this facility so in order to keep track of what's stored where, there has to be a system. There are blocks of storage and within each block; everything is arranged in an alphabetical fashion.'

'Seems simple enough.'

'That's the beauty of it. You'll have blocks of weapons, armour, vehicles, computer software along with various gadgets. However due to the sheer size of this wing, you can still get lost.'

'I don't think I'd mind getting lost in here…' Saoirse muttered. Mr Fox smiled as he headed over to an interesting looking computer and indicated for her to take a seat.

'We need to sort your security clearance. Place your right eye near this monitor and I'll take a quick scan of your retina.' Saoirse lowered her right eye to the lens and hoped the process wold be quick as her neck began to ache. 'So Ms Nolan, I'm pleased you managed to clear up things with the police with concerns to knowing the identity of Batman.' Saoirse nearly fell off her seat. 'In future Ms Nolan, I would prefer if you notified me of any interest the police have in you. It wouldn't reflect well on the company if a new member was being investigated as I'm sure you understand.'

'How did you know it was me?' Saoirse whispered.

'Using a false name was wise in this context as it prevented your true name being broadcast to all of Gotham. If your real name had been sent over the airwaves, you would be branded a suspicious person for life. However Ms Nolan, do not think you are the only accomplished hacker in this department, I am no fool when it comes to serious matters such as these.'

Saoirse couldn't speak. How had Mr Fox so candidly figured out what she had been so keen to keep hidden? Would it affect her placement in Wayne Tower? Would he throw her out of Applied Sciences?

'Now dear, that's the scan complete and we already have your fingerprints from the entrance test. Here's your security clearance card, wear it around your neck otherwise you will not be granted access to this wing. And that's about it. You're officially a Wayne Enterprise employee.' He pressed enter before closing down the computer. Mr Fox stood up and began walking towards a block which judging from the size of the surrounding cases, seemed to be dedicated to weapons. He approached another workbench with ten tiny gold pellets sitting innocently on a silver tray. 'Any idea what these are?' Saoirse shook her head. 'Edible bombs.' He proclaimed.

'Did you just say _edible?' _

'Oh yes. And by edible I mean these can be snuck into your food and then explode in your stomach. The army were incredibly excited about this idea but again were dismayed by the price tag.' Saoirse picked up one of the pellets and held it in her hand. This tiny grain of rice was a bomb. It was hard to believe that something so dangerous could be contained in such a small capsule.

'How much for one?'

'$450,000'

'Oh.' Saoirse replaced the bomb with trembling fingers, trying to ignore thoughts of it a) going boom and b) the cost of replacing it if it did.

The tour continued with Mr Fox showing her a massive indoor track used to test various vehicles, giving her instructions on how to use the concealed elevator, showing her more astounding inventions and finally, he arrived outside of what appeared to be a large white capsule. It was the height of a double decker bus and had a door on the front.

'What's in there?'

'Why don't you see for yourself?'

Saoirse stepped forward and was about to open the door when she realised there was no handle. She frowned while looking around, seeing no security keypad or fingerprint scanner.

'How do you get in?'

'I was hoping you could tell me.'

'I thought I'd already passed the entrance exam.' Saoirse muttered while cautiously pushing against the door. As soon as her fingers touched the white surface, the colour rippled and changed into an unsettling shade of green.

'_Scanning… Fingerprints accepted. Greetings Saoirse Nolan, welcome to the Pod.' _An automated voice said_._ The automatic door disappeared, revealing what appeared to be an expensive looking apartment. Saoirse entered the Pod and stared around, her mouth agape.

'This is the Pod; its original function was as a safe-house for war criminals. The walls are made of titanium yet the white hue comes from a curious molecule found in the chameleon. After some experimentation, I was able to transfer the molecule into a paint which has been applied to this Pod. If the right codes are entered, it will blend in with any environment on the planet.'

'It'll become invisible?'

'Camouflaged is a more accurate description.'

'Are they in production? Is the army currently using them?'

'Like so many things in Applied Sciences, this is a prototype which though excellent in completion, was beyond even the military's budget.'

'So what's it doing here?'

'Well I used to find myself staying here well into the night and would use this as a sort of apartment. Seeing as most of my business will now be conducted upstairs, it's free for your use.' Saoirse took in the state of the art room with a wide smile before following Mr Fox out of the Pod. The automatic door hissed shut and Saoirse looked forward to spending a night inside the bomb proof shelter… and to trying out all of the state of the art appliances inside.

The tour continued outside of the Applied Sciences sector and Mr Fox showed her various recreational facilities throughout Wayne Tower via the private elevator. Saoirse was ecstatic to find a gym equipped with boxing bags where she could occasionally practise coupled with outstanding views of the city. The cafeteria was actually a five star restaurant with top chefs making food for the employees of Wayne Tower. Expensive cars could be hired free of charge for any occasion and there was at least one coffee shop per floor. On one of the highest floors, Mr Fox sat and ordered two coffees overlooking breath-taking views of Gotham.

'So now tell me, what do you plan to do with all of your creative freedom?' Mr Fox asked.

'I thought I'd receive that after I finished the projects you had left over...?'

'I'll be finishing my inventions in my own time Ms Nolan. You have an entire department at your disposal, look at what you like and then start on a project.'

'Any project?'

'Anything as long as it doesn't blow up Wayne Tower. If you see gaps in the market for a product then create something to supply the demand be it the public, government or military sector.'

'Complete creative freedom…'

'I thought it was the attraction of this job for you?'

'It remains the largest benefit of this job.' Saoirse said quietly. 'Oh, Mr Fox?'

'Yes Dear?'

'Dress code for Wayne Tower… I've noticed most of the ladies are in pencil skirts and heels but I must admit; that's not my style at all.'

'But Ms Nolan, it's a professional look.'

'I'm going to be mostly on my own in a gigantic wing, I'd prefer to be creating in comfortable clothes and shoes instead of carrying aches and pains for vanity's sake.' Mr Fox observed her over the tips of his glasses, his coffee suspended in mid-air.

'Well… I suppose this may work in our favour.'

'How?'

'If you choose a more casual look… perhaps we could even push the boat out to scruffy, the people working here would perceive you differently.'

'I'm aware of that –'

'Once they realise you're my successor and note your untidy appearance, they will presume you must be quite remarkable to gain such a privilege.'

'So you're trying to portray me as some sort of scruffy genius?'

'Exactly.'

'My I.Q is at least twenty points shy for me to be deemed a genius.'

'Yet you remain remarkable. The liberal skills you have acquired combined with your ability to act gracefully beneath extraordinary pressure are not taken into account on a simple I.Q test Ms Nolan. So in response to your original question, wear what you like in tomorrow as long as you're not flashing too much skin. I don't want people thinking I hired you for the wrong reasons.'

They descended back to the Applied Science wing where Mr Fox bid her a good evening before heading off to work on another project. Saoirse left Wayne Tower shortly after and headed straight for the boxing gym. Upon reaching her destination she realised she was blatantly avoiding returning home. Were things so tense between Lisbeth and herself that it was beyond resolving? These plus a million other questions were angrily punched into the training bag, while her heart rate rose to the occasion. Countering those unsteady feelings were the small bubbles of ecstasy provided by her first day. Excitement jolted her stomach when thinking about what she should create for her first project… Endless possibilities presented themselves to her and by the time she reached the door of her apartment, she had a fair idea of which idea to begin with.


	10. Chapter 10

Saoirse pressed the return key and watched as a month of solid work finally paid off. She had created a security programme which would protect the Applied Science wing as unlike the contents of the department, the security system was not state of the art. The software she had painstakingly created would not only detect an intruder but would activate various booby traps around the Applied Science department. These traps were immensely fun to come up with and Mr Fox had some input into a few of their designs. The programme also affected the cameras which kept a visual on the entire premise, using thermal imagery to immediately zone in on the intruder. But the part which Saoirse was most proud of was the coding which jammed all exits of the huge wing after the intruder had entered. Avoiding the traps was a possibility but leaving the department was not. Saoirse smiled at the thought of a ruffian trying to steal valuable information and finding themselves stranded until the police arrived.

She glanced at her watch, finding it to read 1am. She'd been so intent on finishing the project that all thoughts of going home had abandoned her. She stretched her aching body before allowing herself to finally gravitate towards the Pod. This was her reward for completing her first project: a night in the titanium capsule. She pressed her fingers against the white door and entered after access was granted. The door closed after her while soft lighting illuminated her path. Feeling far too drowsy to explore the detailed interior, Saoirse headed towards the bedroom where she was greeted by a mattress made out of memory foam. She didn't bother throwing off her scruffy clothes preferring to lay face-down on the mattress. With concerns to her clothes, Mr Fox had been right about how her colleagues would perceive her. After a week, Saoirse's co-workers labelled her as "the chosen one" "an unkempt talent" or her personal favourite "the rumpled genius". Who knew wearing casual clothes in a business environment could have such a profound impact? She dismissed those thoughts before slipping into a dreamless sleep, knowing the Applied Sciences department would not be breached that night.

* * *

Something was pacing and Saoirse's drowsy conscious realised it wasn't a creation from her subconscious. Her eyelids flicked open and she silently climbed out of bed, listening to the dying footsteps. Unfortunately the Pod didn't have any windows to peer out of but it did have access to the cameras which she had recently installed. She activated the machine and was confused with what met her eyes. Instead of thermal images, the screens were blank with the words 'System Breached' flashing dangerously on the monitors. A cold shiver stole through Saoirse's spine when she thought about the kind of person pacing away from the titanium capsule. There were few people who could override her software with Mr Fox being the only familiar one. However, Saoirse knew the tone of Mr Fox's footsteps and realised that the pair fading were too light to be owned by her boss. Fear told her to stay inside while instinct demanded she investigate the situation. With trembling fingers, Saoirse unlocked the Pod's door a fraction and peered outside. The footsteps were barely discernible at this stage and no movement caught her sight in the immediate vicinity. The door silently moved to the side while Saoirse scurried out and flattened herself against the nearest aisle of storage. She strained to hear the footsteps and judged they were heading for Block B, the place where all weapons were stored. She looked around and grabbed the nearest weapon, a golf club from Mr Fox's golfing bag, wondering if it would be any use. She then began to stalk her prey, following the footsteps echoing around the large facility. Saoirse knew the intruder expected the place to be deserted otherwise they wouldn't be so candid about their presence. This would work to her advantage. Her thoughts stilled when the footsteps halted. She estimated the intruder was three aisles over, deep in the advanced weaponry block. Saoirse stared glumly at her golf club, knowing it would be useless against the powerful prototypes stored in those cabinets. She pushed onwards, finding herself pressed against the head of the intruder's aisle. She heard cases being rummaged through and mustered the necessary courage and foolishness to face the trespasser. She took a deep breath and stepped into the aisle, dropping the club upon recognising the intruder. His head rose upon hearing the golf club drop and he halted upon seeing Saoirse.

'Eh… can I help you with something Mr Wayne?' Saoirse asked, not remembering a time in her life when she had felt more awkward. He observed her coolly, his eyes glittering dangerously in the low light.

'Were you planning on assaulting me?'

'I thought the wing had been breached…sir.'

'And your plan was to whack whoever this intruder was… with a golf club.' Saoirse's mouth had suddenly become dry; her vocal chords deserting her. Bruce Wayne focused on closing the case he had been investigating before slowly strolling towards her. Saoirse's thoughts were in overdrive, she had to explain quickly and concisely why she had almost hit her boss's boss with a golf club. How exactly had this happened again?

'Mr Wayne, sir, I installed a new security programme for the Applied Science Wing so when I was alerted that the security system had been breached… I automatically assumed the worst.'

'Have you ever heard of a Master card Ms Nolan?'

'Of course.'

'Well this is what mine looks like.' He withdrew a sleek silver card from his suit pocket. 'Now this bad boy grants me access to any door in Wayne Tower. This is how I managed to subdue your new software.'

Saoirse knew Mr Wayne was lying. She had taken into account that he was in possession of a master card and had recalibrated the system to deny his current card, planning to reissue him with an updated one the following day. The card he held in his palm would not have granted him access to this wing. So how did he enter?

'Oh right. Of course you have a Master card…' Some instinct instructed Saoirse to ignore the fact Mr Wayne was lying.

'If I _was _an intruder, shouldn't you have notified the police before charging in on your own?'

'I had to make sure you were a trespasser before deciding to call the police.' Saoirse muttered.

'And why is it that _you_ are in the Applied Science department so late?'

'I was determined to finish installing the software, I completely lost track of time.' Saoirse responded truthfully. 'May I ask the same question to you?'

'I was merely looking for something to show off at my next fundraiser.' His gaze bore into hers, daring her to question him. Saoirse wisely chose not to. 'Out of curiosity, what would have happened if I had forced entry on this department?' He said, smoothly changing the subject.

'You would have been sealed into the wing and various booby traps would have been activated around the complex.'

'Booby traps?'

'I'll show you.' Saoirse approached a nearby computer and typed in some commands, rebooting the security system. The traps were now activated and a blueprint of the Applied Science department appeared on the monitor. Saoirse pointed at small red dots on the blueprint. 'Each dot represents a trap.'

'Impressive, there appears to be well over a hundred. And if my judgement is correct, the nearest trap is… ten paces down that aisle.' He said, pointing east. Saoirse nodded, becoming more and more suspicious of the young billionaire with every passing second. She followed him towards the area and stopped him before he activated the trap.

'It's pressure sensitive, you take another step forward and it'll be triggered.'

'What'll happen?'

'A surprise.' Saoirse said with a hint of a smile.

'Well Ms Nolan, I always like a surprise.' Then he stepped forward. Saoirse tried to pull him back but too late, he'd activated the trap. Or at least she thought he had. He turned around and faced her, his arms folded. 'So where is this so called surprise?' He asked.

'That's strange… you should be…' Saoirse's voice trailed away, not knowing what had gone wrong. Mr Wayne stepped off the danger area while Saoirse tried to calculate any possible errors. She stepped onto the area he'd just vacated, wondering why the pressure had not activated the trap. Mr Wayne's weight was more than enough to –

A sickening tug dragged Saoirse's legs from beneath her as she was hoisted up on invisible ropes, dangling upside down like a helpless doll. Mr Wayne burst out laughing, doing nothing to help her out of her unfortunate predicament. 'Excellent work Ms Nolan. Fantastic, simply _brilliant_.' Saoirse was impervious to his sarcasm; suddenly aware gravity was trying to pull down her top. Instead of being embarrassed about possibly flashing her boss's boss, she stayed perfectly still with both hands clamped to her T-shirt. She felt the blood rush to her head yet calmly ignored the uncomfortable nausea. The ropes bit into her legs and Saoirse knew she could escape the trap using her hands but if she did, she would consequently expose herself. Her face was roughly level with Mr Wayne's and she decided not to panic, but to simply fix her gaze on him. She could only imagine how ridiculous she looked, red hair floating beneath her, cheeks flushed, her hands stuck to the sides of her top for fear of it falling and engaging in a staring contest with Bruce Wayne. However, something about her glare made Mr Wayne uncomfortable as the laughter died in his throat and a sombre look settled onto his features.

'Let's get you down from there.' He said quietly upon realising she wasn't going to ask for help.

'That would be nice.' Saoirse mumbled; the dizziness escalating. She gave out a few instructions which Mr Wayne followed and a minute later, the ropes began to unwind, slowly lowering her to the floor. Saoirse untied the ropes and leant heavily against a large cabinet which she knew to contain a prototype powerful enough to demolish a city. Her world spun before her eyes before she put her head between her knees, hoping she wasn't about to see her dinner again. After focusing on her breathing, she felt something cold against her arm. Slowly lifting her head, a blurry image of Mr Wayne came into view. 'Drink this.' He murmured while handing her a freezing glass of water. She felt remarkably better after drinking the cold beverage, even managing to stand up. Saoirse walked towards a worn leather couch and sank heavily into the comfortable, squishy confines. 'Thanks.' She muttered while pushing on a snazzy looking kettle on a nearby table. She stared as the liquid began to bubble, not wanting to believe what had just happened.

The kettle switched off and she pressed on different panels of the table, which flipped over revealing an array of tea bags, milk, and sugar. She quickly made tea as was her ritual after suffering a stressful event and curled up on the couch. She was very aware Mr Wayne was watching her but remained reluctant to meet his quizzical gaze. 'Do you want some?' She asked, knowing he would decline.

'Sure.' She almost looked at him in confusion, but saved herself the embarrassment just in time. The tea was soon poured and he accepted it while much to her dismay, he sat down on the opposing armchair. Could he not understand the embarrassment she had undergone in the past five minutes resulted in her wanting her space?

'I meant to ask you about your attire Ms Nolan.' He began. Oh fantastic, he was going to lengthen her humiliation.

'Mr Fox doesn't mind as long as I keep up my good work.' Saoirse muttered into her tea. She felt tiny on that couch, so powerful was her mortification.

'There's no need to get defensive, I need you to come up to the boardroom this Friday.'

'What for?' She still refused to look at him.

'There's an important Indonesian client visiting us and I need you to make sure they're not – to put it politely – pulling the wool over my boardroom's eyes.'

'How would I be able to help?'

'It's to do with a technological advancement of theirs; they want to sell it to us. You're going to make sure it's worth buying.'

'Can't Mr Fox help you?'

'He's unable to make it.'

'Sure, I'll go. I guess you want me to wear some uncomfortable business clothes then?'

'Actually no… I want to give the client the impression if there's anything wrong with their technology, you'll find the error.'

'So you want to give the impression I'm a scruffy genius?'

'Precisely.' Saoirse frowned into her tea, knowing the parallel thought process between Mr Fox and Mr Wayne couldn't be co-incidental.

'Are you in a relationship Ms Nolan?' She frowned at him, not liking where he was steering the conversation.

'You should know better than to hit on me after what just happened.' She said quietly. Mr Wayne began to chuckle but paused upon realising she was deadly serious.

'Fair enough, although it wasn't my intention to strike a nerve.'

'You didn't hit a nerve… you simply shouldn't be asking questions like that.' She said bluntly.

'And why not?'

'I'm not sure if you've noticed but you're kind of my boss's boss.' Saoirse couldn't believe how sarcastic she was being, it was probably to gain some of the control she'd lost after falling victim to her own booby trap.

'It hadn't escaped my notice, yet listen to this Ms Nolan; I'm merely toying with you.' Even if he was speaking the truth, Saoirse didn't trust him. This hadn't escaped Mr Wayne's notice either as he finally rose to leave.

'Thank you for the tea. But more importantly, well done for passing the test.'

'Test?' Saoirse spluttered. Surely this embarrassing scene hadn't been part of some grand scheme?

'Jut a simple test I give to some female employees, making sure they're at Wayne Tower for the job, not for anything else. In the last ten years of my life, I've dealt with enough gold diggers to cover all wealthy men in the world.'

Saoirse didn't even know how to respond to this ludicrous statement. 'Goodnight, Ms Nolan.' He said before striding towards the concealed elevator. A minute later he disappeared and Saoirse stared after him, a mixture of disbelief and outrage bubbling in her stomach. He had the nerve to test her… after everything she'd been through in the past ten minutes? She knew Bruce Wayne to be an arrogant, humanitarian playboy but hadn't realised his capacity to be selfishly cruel.


	11. Chapter 11

Saoirse woke to find herself face-down on a leather couch. She slowly pushed herself upright, swept away the hair stuck to her face and blearily looked around. She stared dumbly at two mugs of tea, not remembering who she'd shared the tea with or when she'd made it. In a blinding rush, she remembered last night. She groaned but somehow managed to resist falling back onto the couch. The embarrassment was still present yet it had lost its sickeningly keen edge. However if she never saw Mr Wayne again, it would be too soon. Thinking about the billionaire made her recall the suspicions she had of him… but why was that again? He'd lied about the master card! She stumbled towards a nearby computer and started typing commands into it, looking for evidence to support her theory. For the next half an hour, all to be heard in the expansive wing was the tapping of her fingers. Quite accidently, she stumbled upon something shocking. Before even considering the possibility, she rechecked all of her previous commands yet still arrived at the same conclusion. The master card certainly hadn't granted Mr Wayne access to the Applied Science sector… her software had been hacked. And judging by the exquisite manner in which the hacker had concealed its path, it was someone whose skills outperformed Saoirse's by some way. Who had Mr Wayne hired to hack into her software? Did he use Mr Fox? But that made no sense; Mr Fox was at his son's graduation party in Los Angeles. He caught a flight yesterday evening, there was no way he flew straight back from such an important event to grant Mr Wayne access to his own department.

Then another idea hit Saoirse, admittedly quite ludicrous but judging from what she had discovered, not completely impossible: Bruce Wayne himself hacked through her software. Initial calls to dismiss this ridiculous proposal included his selfish manner, his love of dating models, laziness, unexpectedly disappearing on cruise holidays… He didn't fit the build of a hacker at all. Yet when Saoirse rationally looked at the problem, she realised the flaws in his personality would not rule out a hidden hacker. Yet, was he smart enough to understand computer programming? Her initial reaction was no but she remembered there was no hard evidence to prove otherwise. If he was this computer savvy, he would be a great deal smarter than her and would probably equal or surpass Mr Fox on an intellectual basis. But to beat Mr Fox on an intelligence level… Bruce Wayne would have to be a genius. Even Saoirse had to admit it sounded absurd. Yet the damning evidence of a sublime hacker lay before her, innocently presenting itself on the computer's monitor. She chewed her fingernails while playing with the idea of Bruce Wayne the genius. In society he was perceived as a rich belligerent fool; what could possibly motivate him to conceal his intelligence? The genius theory aside, what was he doing skulking around this department close to four in the morning? She knew the contents of the case he had been looking at. It contained a pretty boring prototype, nothing which would impress any ladies at his fundraisers. She didn't know exactly what was going on but with each encounter, she became more and more suspicious of Bruce Wayne.

* * *

After leaving a disgruntled panel of representatives behind, Saoirse found herself in remarkably good spirits. She had proven the technological advances made by the Indonesian company to be a farce simply because the invention already existed. It was quite possibly the shortest meeting in Wayne Enterprise history. Her high spirits were subdued when she came face to face with Mr Wayne. She'd completely avoided eye contact with him in the boardroom even after he'd introduced her to his clients. Saoirse held his gaze for a moment, wondering if an incredibly sharp mind lay behind the playboy façade. It simply seemed a bridge too far yet her suspicions continued to nip at her.

'Nicely done, you saved Wayne Enterprise from making an expensive mistake.' He said, nodding in approval.

'Thank you sir.'

'Let's take a walk.'

Let's not, Saoirse thought but glumly followed him into the corridor. They entered a lift and Mr Wayne withdrew his master card, activating the top floor. As the lift opened, Saoirse was disappointed at the lack of bravado. This was the top floor of Wayne Tower, it should be spectacular. An attractive secretary sat guard-like outside of Bruce Wayne's office.

'Good afternoon Mr Wayne.'

He barely acknowledged her as they passed. Saoirse looked to right this wrong by smiling widely at the secretary. Instead of returning the smile, the secretary icily looked her up and down, noting her dishevelled appearance. Saoirse's smile faded as the door to Bruce Wayne's office opened. Saoirse's jaw dropped upon seeing the interior. It was the exact opposite of the Applied Science wing as it was full of light. Instead of a cement ceiling, sparkling glass allowed a full view of the above sky and as Saoirse lowered her gaze, incredible views of Gotham were to be had.

'I take it you like what I've done with the place?' Mr Wayne asked coolly, taking a seat behind an expensive looking desk on a plush business chair.

'How do you keep the glass so clean?' Saoirse asked.

'I have to hire specialist cleaners who have an avid interest in abseiling.'

'Of course.'

'Would you like something to drink?' He asked while revealing a beautifully tailored bar. Judging from the expensive variety on show, Saoirse would guess it cost thousands of dollars to correctly stock it.

'No thank you.'

'Then… perhaps a cup of tea?' He looked at her meaningfully. Saoirse ignored the jibe and accepted his former proposal. She poured herself a White Russian and sat in front of him while taking a sip of the iced beverage. The alcohol calmed her slightly and she placed the expensive crystal glass down, planning to leave the drink unfinished. She was highly aware that when it came to alcohol, she was a terrible lightweight. She needed her wits to be sharp around Mr Wayne; she couldn't afford to become drunk around such a suspicious character.

'As I said before, you did well correctly identifying the false technological advancement. Now there's something else I have in mind for you.' He observed her expectantly, his hands clasped while his own drink remained untouched. Yet something distracted Saoirse from figuring out what next adventure Bruce Wayne had in store for her. What he'd previously said settled uncomfortably on her shoulders. …you did well _correctly _identifying the false technological advancement. Why would he say "correctly"? Suddenly Saoirse understood. Mr Wayne had known the invention from his Indonesian clients already existed; he'd wanted to see if Saoirse would also realise this. Another blasted test! Was there any action of Mr Wayne which didn't contain an ulterior motive? Deep anger eddied in her stomach, making it hard to concentrate on what she should say. Saoirse reneged on her former promise and took another sip of her White Russian. The alcohol boost encouraged her to foolishly say something instead of remaining silent.

'You knew.' She whispered.

'I'm Sorry Ms Nolan? What did I know?'

'You knew the technological advancement was a sham before I stepped into that Boardroom.' Saoirse said, coolly holding his guarded gaze.

'So what if I did?' His candid confession took Saoirse by surprise.

'Why test me?'

'To see if you had the self-belief to back yourself in a boardroom of important people.' He replied. Saoirse ignored the urge to hurl her glass at Mr Wayne in frustration.

'That's it? To see if I had any balls?' Saoirse asked incredulously.

'I was opting for a more polite description but yes. And you certainly demonstrated that you are well endowed in that department.' Saoirse stared at the young billionaire in disbelief. Surely he didn't just say that…

'So what else do you have planned for me?' Saoirse asked, wanting to move away from this insane conversation as quickly as possible.

'Every year Wayne Enterprise hosts a party with its top employees coupled with Gotham's famous and wealthiest faces. You may have heard of our small get together.' Saoirse wondered if there was a single person in Gotham unaware of Wayne Enterprise's extravagant annual party. It was a social hotspot for celebrities which included a red carpet entrance bedecked with jostling paparazzi. A person had to be working a minimum of ten years before being invited to the star studded event.

'Yes I'm familiar with your "get together". But what does it have to do with me?'

'The party takes place two weeks from tomorrow and you'll be attending.' He said. Childish excitement and intense confusion wrestled each other in Saoirse's stomach. Confusion eventually won.

'I just have one question…'

'Ask away.'

'Why?' Saoirse was determined to find out any secret agendas of Mr Wayne before stepping foot inside what most magazines would deem 'the social event of the year'.

'Ms Nolan, I'll be honest with you.' Saoirse prepared herself for a wall of lies. 'Mr Fox, your superior, has worked over twenty years for this company. In that time, he's made an impressive number of enemies for asking too many questions. A number of those enemies will be at this event in two weeks. Many of these people seek the permanent closure of Applied Sciences and have been applying pressure on me to achieve their ambition. You must understand Ms Nolan; these people are very powerful and can influence many of Wayne Enterprises most loyal customers to move to a competitive company.'

'Are you going to close the Applied Science Wing?' Saoirse asked in a tiny voice.

'Not if I can help it. At this event, you'll be introduced to many of Mr Fox's enemies and what I want you to do should be simple: I want you to charm them.'

'Mr Wayne, I'm far too blunt to be considered charming.' Saoirse said morosely.

'There are many forms of charm Ms Nolan including bluntness. Although quite abrasive on most, you manage to curtail it to provide a refreshing yet candid point of view. If I believed my own oozing charm could sway these people, I wouldn't be asking for you to interfere. However, where my approach has failed is where I believe yours could succeed. Tell your story to these people; you're a bright, enthusiastic engineer who just landed her dream job after beating hundreds of other applicants. Allow them to like you and soon they will associate the Applied Science division with you instead of Mr Fox.' Saoirse realised this was the first time Mr Wayne had been truly honest with her.

'That's why you tested me in the boardroom; you were looking to see if I could handle the pressure in my own "charming" way.'

'Exactly.'

She took a few minutes to gather her thoughts, finishing her White Russian as she made her decision. 'Course I'll do it.' She said.

'And you'll succeed where I have failed.' Mr Wayne said more to himself than to Saoirse. He allowed a relieved smile to flicker before snuffing it with a gulp of whiskey. 'For this, you'll need to blend in with the formal dress code. You've an appointment at half five today with Avery dressmakers, don't be late.'

'You presumed I would say yes?' Saoirse asked.

'I would've fired you if you didn't.' Saoirse had no trouble believing him. 'You should probably be leaving, it's a thirty minute drive uptown and you'll need to beat the rush hour traffic.'

Saoirse nodded, understanding she was dismissed. As she reached the door, she turned around and said 'Thank you Mr Wayne.'

'What for Ms Nolan?'

'For being honest.' Saoirse closed the door before he could change his mind and fire her.


	12. Chapter 12

Only after meeting Mr Avery did Saoirse realise she was in the presence of fashion royalty. Mr Francis Avery was a world renowned dressmaker who specialised in wedding dresses or attire for the red carpet. Despite his 5'0 height, he dominated his fabulously decorated office accessorized with model-like assistants.

'Now sweetie, you need to strip.'

'S-Sorry?' Saoirse spluttered.

'Strip. Honey, I know I'm good but even I can't take your measurements when you're wearing such baggy clothes.' Saoirse grit her teeth when she felt the colour paint her cheeks.

'There's no need to be shy, believe me when I say I've seen it all…' He bustled around, taking reams of fabric from hidden cabinets and plucking two striking girls from the office to assist him. Ignoring the judgmental gazes of Mr Avery's assistants, Saoirse quickly parted ways with her comfortable clothes. Mr Avery glanced up and paused, letting out a low whistle.

'Well I must admit… I wasn't expecting that.'

'Expecting what?' Saoirse asked, feeling as if she'd grown scales all over her body. Mr Avery approached her and spread her arms out horizontally.

'Your muscle tone… it's _exceptionally _defined. Do you lift weights?' He asked while squeezing her bicep.

'I box.' Saoirse said shortly.

'Yes, kickboxing seems to be very popular with the ladies at the moment –'

'No, I box, like Muhammad Ali did except obviously not as well.'

'What a masculine sport for you to be attracted to.' Mr Avery said, watching carefully for her reaction.

'Well… my gym is mostly populated by men.' Saoirse said with a devilish smile.

'Oh I bet you just hate that. Now Ms Nolan, don't be offended by what I'm about to say, it is merely to preserve you from the wrath of the paparazzi.'

'I think I can handle it.' Saoirse said.

'I suggest for the next two weeks, you treat boxing like UGG boots.'

'And how should I be treating UGG Boots?'

'As if they were carcinogenic, they should be avoided at all costs.' It took a second for the metaphor to sink in.

'…I can't quite training for two weeks, that's nuts!' Saoirse scoffed.

'Well if you continue, the paparazzi will dub you 'she-hulk' when they snap a photo of you unconsciously flexing.'

'Surely I'm not _that _toned.'

'For a red-carpet event, you most certainly are sweetie.' Saoirse chewed her fingernails while soaking in Mr Avery's advice. Her boxing had improved mightily and she had finally won a few fights in her local gym. Yet being able to defend herself in a boxing match was not something which would be deemed 'elegant' by the paparazzi or any of the guests Mr Wayne would introduce her to. Though she hated to admit it, Mr Avery was probably right; she didn't want to scare the people she was supposed to be charming with bulging biceps.

'Point taken. Now, I thought I came here for a dress?' Saoirse asked.

'So you did. Now I received some photos of you before you arrived to get an idea of what might compliment your skin, eye and hair colour. And I thought this would suit nicely.' He clicked his fingers and one of his assistants handed him a beautiful dark green fabric. 'This is made of chiffon, a lovely light fabric which will float around your feet as you walk. Now, let's get measuring!'

It took a solid hour of poking, prodding, cutting and stitching to receive the satisfactory skeleton of Saoirse's dress. The slim sleeves rested perpendicular to her shoulders, creating an aesthetically pleasing straight line. This was dotted with hastily stitched petit green flowers. The green material spiralled around Saoirse's midriff before cinching in at the hips with another line of small green flowers. Beneath the hips, the material was allowed to fall to the floor in beautiful tresses.

'Now sweetie, it's very important which hairstyle you choose as your hair is Mother Nature's most gracious accessory. I personally believe an up-do is out of the question, with hair the colour of sunsets, you should allow it to float around these exposed shoulders of yours.' He quickly released Saoirse's pony tail, allowing the hair to messily fall around her shoulders. 'There we go… gorgeous! Why can't I work with more redheads?' He sighed wistfully while stitching one final flower to her hips. 'Well that's the idea of the dress. Now, shoes!' He clapped his hands, sending his assistants scuttling around the office, bringing back large boxes stamped with frightfully expensive brands. Saoirse must have tried on fifty shoes before finding ones she could easily walk in. Mr Avery eventually nodded in approval before accessories were sent for, tried on and chosen. 'I think that's everything… dress, shoes, earrings, bracelet, rings, necklace and clutch...'

'Perhaps a coat?'

'Don't be insane dear, how will you showcase the fabulous dress I've created?!' Saoirse decided to keep her logic about staying warm to herself. 'Right, the dress should be ready next week, I'll keep your accessories here and you can pick them up all together. Yes, that means you can change back into those hideous clothes of yours.' He said with a roll of his eyes. Finally she claimed sanctuary in the baggy clothes she came in, thanking the heavens for whoever designed comfortable flat shoes.

'Oh and you have an appointment with a personal friend of mine who'll take care of your hair and makeup.' Mr Avery added. 'He's a bit of a diva but most gifted with creativity are! Oh my dear, enjoy the night, it will be one to remember! Who knows what famous bachelor will take a shine to you…' Saoirse decided not to burst his bubble, attracting a husband was the last thing she would be doing at this party… Or so she hoped.

A second later she was out of the dressmakers, hoping she wouldn't have to attend another event like this for quite some time. She was glad to be leaving the chaotic office behind; she'd had too many shiny objects and soft materials thrown at her today.

Ten minutes later she was opening her apartment, ready to divulge the insane day to her roommate. Things had been slowly improving between them and Saoirse hoped to maintain the path of steady recovery. Maybe she could ask Lisbeth to be her plus one at this party…

'Lisbeth? You won't believe what happened today…' Saoirse went into the kitchen and made a well-deserved cup of tea. 'I'm making tea, do you want some?' Silence greeted her words. 'Lisbeth? You can't be asleep it's barely nine o'clock!'

Saoirse knocked gently on her roommate's door with a spare mug of tea in hand. To her surprise the usually locked door swung inwards, revealing a gut-wrenching sight. The bed had been stripped of its coverings and sheets, drawers lay abandoned and the wardrobe appeared vulnerable with empty hangers. Saoirse slowly stepped into the room, a small note resting on the bedside table attracting her attention. She carefully unfolded the page and began to read.

_Dear Saoirse,_

_We've been roommates for the past two years and have created some of the best memories of my life. However, you also witnessed my most frightening and painful experience, the night I was stabbed. I know you saved my life yet every time I see you or converse with you, that night is all I can think about. My therapist suggests I leave you for a while, perhaps even permanently in order to overcome the constant anxiety which has plagued me since that event. You may read this short note and call me a coward as I have run away without saying a proper goodbye. When you think of me, I can only hope you overlook my childish escape and remember the brilliant times we had together._

_I hope everything works out for you in the future Saoirse, please believe me when I say that._

_Forgive me;_

_Lisbeth. _

Saoirse quickly re-folded the sheet of paper (a tricky task with shaking hands) and slammed Lisbeth's former door shut. She grabbed the house phone and quickly called Lisbeth's mobile.

_The number you are calling has been disconnected. Please enter another number. _

Saoirse dropped the phone and re-entered Lisbeth's bedroom. She searched every corner, every crevice for a sign that her roommate wold be returning, but none were to be found. Giving up in the bedroom, Saoirse returned her attention to the rest of the apartment. She ran around, upending the apartment which Lisbeth had so meticulously cleaned before bailing. How nice of her. She paused and picked up the phone once more, dialling Lisbeth's parents.

'Hello?' Lisbeth's mother said.

'Beatrice! It's Saoirse, have you heard from Lis–'

'I'm sorry Saoirse, but I shouldn't be talking to you.'

'But Beatrice, wait –'

The line went dead. Saoirse stared at the phone in her hand in disbelief before she re-dialled once more.

_Welcome to the voicemail of 555 437289, the person you are calling has their mobile phone powered off. Please leave a message after the tone. _

Saoirse didn't know what to do next. How should she contact her? _Should _she contact her? Perhaps tomorrow she could launch the spyware she'd been working on and track down Lisbeth's coordinates… yet something stopped Saoirse pursuing this idea. She reluctantly re-read Lisbeth's letter and came to the conclusion that she didn't want to be found. And if she didn't want to be found… Saoirse wasn't going to look for her.

She approached the sitting room, a terrifying numbness swirling in her stomach. As she sat, she allowed the feeling to flow into her limbs, freezing her veins as it progressed through her body. Her hands stopped trembling and her ignited anger was smothered. Somewhere she realised she was defeated. Though she tried to look at the situation from a different perspective, all she could think of was how Lisbeth had abandoned her. Saoirse had saved her best friend's life and instead of the event bringing them closer, Lisbeth had allowed it to tear them apart. How could she be so selfish to allow this to happen? After the loyalty she had shown, how could Lisbeth abandon her?

When the numbness had completely engulfed her, Saoirse focused her attention on one thing: ripping Lisbeth's letter into tiny shreds.


	13. Chapter 13

Tonight was the big night: Wayne Enterprises annual party. The evening where Saoirse would converse with the richest, the most powerful faces of Gotham in order to save the Applied Sciences department. It sounded like the synopsis of a terrible movie starring Saoirse as the reluctant heroine who receives a make-over from a flamboyant fairy godfather. To her surprise, the process of becoming glamourized by said fairy godfather had been remarkably easy. The dress had been thrown over her head and she'd stepped into her heels followed by sitting still for a few hours while her hair, makeup and nails were applied by expert hands. After surveying the finished product in a mirror, Saoirse felt as if an artist had smoothed out all of her imperfections. Instead of feeling liberated by the lack of flaws, Saoirse found herself yearning to be rid of the expensive makeover. Feeling overwhelmed, she'd resisted the urge to dunk her head in cold water and throw the expensive dress, shoes and accessories into a fire.

'Well look at you, all dressed up.' Saoirse started; her thoughts so jittery she hadn't noticed Mr Fox's arrival. He'd asked her to meet him in the Applied Science wing before departing to the party.

'I take it you're not attending?' She asked hopelessly.

'I'm afraid I would only further aggravate the people who want to shut down this department.'

'I thought that was the reason you wanted to see me, to tell me you'd changed your mind…'

'No dear, I asked you to stop by because I needed to give you some advice. Though appearances may be deceptive, you will be entertaining some coldblooded people tonight. For example Mr Thomas Woods –'

'I know; he owns the majority of shares in Woods Initiative. He's a ruthless man who cast away his only daughter as she pursued a career in ice skating instead of medicine. He also buys and sells with various black markets in order to keep his prices competitive.'

'I see you've done your homework, Ms Nolan.'

'It's all on here.' Saoirse opened her clutch and withdrew a normal mobile phone. Once activated, it provided images and vital information of the important people attending tonight's event.

'Will it not be rude to access this information in the middle of conversation, Ms Nolan?'

'I've memorised over a hundred different names, faces and occupations along with critical information concerning their lifestyles, personalities and most importantly, their secrets. If I can't charm them, then my last resort will be blackmail...'

'I'll pretend I didn't hear that quip concerning blackmail.' Mr Fox said with wry smile. 'Yet there was another reason I requested your audience.'

'And why's that?'

'I've managed to perfect some new programmes which I want to show you.'

'Really? Right now?'

'Well if they work, I was thinking you could sync them onto that phone of yours and if you became bored throughout the evening, they could provide a pleasant distraction.' Saoirse agreed and in a few short minutes the programmes had been explained and downloaded onto her phone. The software was brilliantly engineered and Saoirse was itching to try them out yet alas, she had to go to a star studded event instead. She chuckled to herself, knowing there were millions of girls who would kill to be in her shoes yet she was only interested in dissecting Mr Fox's latest invention. How bizarre she was…

'Well Ms Nolan, I believe that's it. I wish you the best of luck for this evening.' Mr Fox said.

'I'll do everything I can Mr Fox. I promise.' Saoirse murmured fiercely. She took in one final sweep of the Applied Science wing. If she failed tonight, the place would become a graveyard where her dream job would be buried. She pushed away that thought, rose as gracefully as her high shoes allowed and left the familiar department.

Ten minutes later she was sitting in the back seat of a luxurious limo, flanked by Mr Francis Avery who was beside himself with excitement. After collecting her dress earlier in the week, Saoirse had decided to ask Mr Avery to be her plus one. Despite being a fashion icon, he'd failed to receive an invitation to the social event of the year. Saoirse's logic behind this decision was simple: he would protect her from the paparazzi on the red carpet. He was a famous face who would be explaining her dress in detail while she would concentrate on walking, smiling and not tripping. It would also create a positive first impression to enter with a well-known person instead of arriving stag and having the paparazzi ignore her.

'Right dear, we're almost there. Let's make a quick checklist shall we? Clutch? Check. Dress? Check. Both Earrings? Check. Bracelet? Check. Rings? Check. Necklace? Check. Hair piece? Check. Shoes? Check. Make-up? Flawless. Hair? Silky smooth with plenty of volume… Overall look? Stunning!'

Saoirse did her best to ignore Mr Avery; his chirpy manner was setting her teeth on edge. Tonight had nothing to do with receiving the award for best dressed female, courting single bachelors or having her picture published in a glossy magazine. In her mind, the red carpet was merely a bizarre obstacle which had to be overcome in order to gain access to the party. In the bowels of this get together, Saoirse would try with all her might to fascinate those who were impervious to Mr Wayne's charms. It was a daunting task to say the least.

'Brace yourself sweetheart. We're here.' Mr Avery whispered gleefully as the limo slowed. Saoirse's heart flip-flopped pathetically in her chest when the car came to a complete halt. A stranger opened the door and flashing lights violently invaded the limo's interior. Mr Avery exited first, smiling jovially and waving to the ecstatic paparazzi. Saoirse took a deep breath, ignored the urge to remain hidden in the car, and stepped out into a sea of flashing lights.

It passed in a blur, the cameras burning into Saoirse's retinas as she was shepherded along the red carpet. She was vaguely aware the camera holders yelling Mr Avery's name, trying to attract his attention but he ignored them all. Saoirse remembered to smile, to stand tall and most importantly – to walk. Nigel Reed, a famous TV presenter came rushing towards them on the red carpet, microphone in hand.

'Mr Francis Avery! Gotham's No.1 fashion icon, how are you this evening sir?' Nigel gushed, shoving a microphone in his face. The two talked for a few seconds before Mr Avery firmly pulled Saoirse forwards and began explaining his dress. Feeling mannequin-like, Saoirse smiled and twirled much to the pleasure of the surrounding light bulbs. 'And who is this _lovely _lady modelling your dress this evening?' Before Saoirse's vocal chords could function, Francis leapt in. 'This? Oh Nigel, _surely_ you know who this fiery girl is?' He allowed enough time for Nigel Reed to become flustered before continuing. 'May I present to you Saoirse Nolan, the genius engineer recently employed by Bruce Wayne himself.' Oh no, he did _not_just call her a genius.

'A genius _and _beautiful? Ms Nolan, this simply isn't fair.' Nigel responded, showing a wide arrangement of pearly teeth. She was barely able to laugh at his joke, she felt light-headed and the flashing lights were becoming painful. A few questions later and they were swept downstream on the never-ending red carpet. Time flowed at a painfully slow rate as Mr Avery linked her arm and stopped every two steps for photographs. Saoirse did her best to keep smiling, her cheeks stinging from the contorted effort. Just at her breaking point, where she would crack and start pummelling her plus one, the flashing lights ended and they approached a frightful looking bouncer. Saoirse had never been so glad to approach a scary looking man.

'Tickets please.' He boomed. Saoirse fumbled in her clutch before producing the beautifully crafted invitation. In a sadistic manner, the bouncer ripped the ticket in half; handed back the grubby remain and ticked her off the list. A moment later they had entered the beautifully dim entrance where coats were taken and drinks were ordered.

'Saoirse that was just beautiful! We'll be seeing plenty of pictures of my dress in the magazines tomorrow…' Before she could admonish Mr Avery for calling her a genius on live TV, he had quickly excused himself. He trotted over to an actress whose face she couldn't place and began complimenting her outfit. As Saoirse ordered a White Russian from a decidedly dull looking waiter, she realised she was glad to be rid of Mr Avery. Without his hyper disposition distracting her, she was able to mentally prepare herself for tonight's mission. The red carpet was over. As long as she lived, she would neversubject herself to that horror again. She took a few sips of her drink for liquid courage and proceeded into the depths of the oldest hotel in Gotham. As she exited the entrance hall and properly entered the venue, her head spun when confronted by the stunning decoration. An idyllic ballroom spread out before her, bringing to life the many descriptions Saoirse had read in romantic and realist novels. The light source originated from thousands of candles placed in beautiful candelabras standing guard over the dance floor while others hung in crystal chandeliers from the towering ceiling. Saoirse looked up and to her astonishment, realised the high room was bordered by five tiers of floors. These balcony-like floors held many attractively dressed men and women who casually leaned over and observed the people below. The ceiling itself was made of glass, reflecting the thousands of flickering flames in the ballroom. A handsome stage to her right contained a string quartet floating concertos from Chopin into the surrounding atmosphere while waiters with golden trays drifted gracefully throughout the crowd offering expensive champagne or fragile canapés. A magnificent marble staircase lay on the opposite side of the impeccably polished dance floor boasting extraordinary flower arrangements and granting access to the upper tiers. The lack of electricity combined with the traditional ballroom and music created the impression Saoirse had stepped back two hundred years.

'Splendid isn't it?' Mr Avery gushed. Saoirse managed to stifle her groan of disappointment upon realising her plus one had found her.

'I feel as if I'm in a Jane Austen novel. How many candles do you think are in this place, thousands?' She asked, managing to maintain an upbeat tone.

'Keep your wits about you with these candles Saoirse; you do not want to face me with a burnt dress by the end of the evening. Shall we mingle?' Before she could respond, he'd disappeared into the famous and wealthy of Gotham. Hoping his departure was permanent this time, Saoirse made her way towards the ladies. Finding it to be nearly deserted, she quickly took out her phone and began to flick through the pictures and names of the people she would be introduced to. After the quick refresh, a twenty something model rushed into the bathroom and grabbed another lady by the arm. 'Hurry! Mr Wayne's just making his big entrance!' She hissed while dashing out, her friend in tow. Saoirse replaced the phone in her bag and also exited the bathroom. The ballroom was decidedly quiet with most people craning their necks to gaze at the glass ceiling. As Saoirse looked up, she finally understood why Mr Fox had spent the last week working on harnesses which wouldn't crease a tuxedo. Mr Wayne was being lowered from the ceiling, flanked by two models in beautiful evening wear. He landed smack bang in the middle of the dance floor, gracefully untied his harness and linked arms with his escorts. The audience clapped enthusiastically as a microphone and champagne were placed in his hands.

'My hardest workers, my oldest friends, ladies and gentleman: Welcome to Wayne Enterprises annual celebration!' A cheer rippled around the ballroom, sending strange echoes around the carnivorous hall. 'As you know, I'm not one for boring speeches so please, mingle, forge new acquaintances and above all, enjoy yourselves! To a fun-filled evening!' He said while raising his glass. His toast was echoed back and he smiled graciously, ignoring the beautiful women beside him as he ventured towards the bar. Saoirse watched as he quickly greeted a few colleagues, threw back a shot of whiskey and when their attention was distracted, exited through a well concealed door adjacent to the bar. Though Saoirse knew Mr Wayne wouldn't immediately introduce her to the important guests, her curiosity was piqued by his strange behaviour. She'd thought being the centre of attention was where Bruce Wayne loved to be; she didn't expect him to skulk off minutes after arriving.

She decided to indulge her curiosity and against her better judgement, found herself disappearing through the same hidden door. She was lucky the shoes she'd chosen for the evening were wedges instead of heels; there was no annoying 'clip-clop' to alert Mr Wayne of her presence. The door swung shut, snuffing the party atmosphere instantly. She was met by a door-lined corridor and just as she was about to wonder which one she should try, she heard one at the end closing. She glanced over her shoulder in a paranoid manner before following Mr Wayne's dying footsteps. She quietly closed the door behind her and was presented with a spiral staircase. Another door slammed shut above her and she wondered if this was a secret way to access the different tiers of the ballroom. The stairs were ascended with caution and after a few flights; she came face to face with a door which wouldn't look out of place in a bank. The steel alone was at least ten inches thick while gaining access required the correct code, retinal and fingerprint scans. Saoirse's curiosity ignited, she wanted to know what lay concealed behind the imposing door which could distract Mr Wayne from partying.

A sudden bout of paranoia concerning being discovered quickly snuffed her existing curiosity and she decided to quickly retrace her steps. A minute later she was walking between well-dressed party guests where she easily blended in. Everyone was being guided towards their tables where dinner was about to be served. The tables were circular, well-spaced and held eight different seats. As Saoirse approached her table, she realised that her plus-one would of course be seated next to her.

'Saoirse, darling! Where have you been for the last half an hour?' Mr Avery gushed as she took her seat.

'Mingling.' She replied shortly, her mind still on that mysterious door.

'And how many compliments did my dress receive?'

'I lost count.' Saoirse lied, resisting the urge to violently stab him with a silver fork.

'Well it is an absolute winner!' He said while grabbing another glass of champagne. Saoirse ignored him, choosing to observe the rest of the table instead. To her relief, she recognised all six faces. After swallowing her nerves, she introduced herself to the man sitting beside her, Mr Thomas Woods, the coldblooded individual Mr Fox had warned her about.

'As in Saoirse Nolan the genius engineer? Surely you didn't alert Mr Wayne to the false technological advances presented by an Indonesian client of his?' There it was once again, the word "genius". She decided to allow the mistake to pass as it would hopefully work in her favour.

'That would be me.'

'Bill! Remember the recent business we did with Wayne Enterprise?' Mr Woods said loudly to a balding man supporting an impressive gut.

'Sure.'

'Well this is Saoirse Nolan and she allowed us to fill the gap left by our Indonesian competitors!'

'But Thomas, I think you're mistaken. I thought the smarter a female engineer the uglier she became, that red-headed cupcake couldn't possibly be the correct Saoirse!' The two men dissolved into alcohol aided guffaws while Saoirse forced a smile at their sexist remarks.

'I assure you gentlemen; I was the one who called your competitors bluff.'

'Well isn't that extraordinary.' Thomas Woods said while leaning closer, invading her personal space. 'And which department does Mr Wayne have you locked away in? Hopefully not his office.'

'Actually, I'm in the Applied Science department where I'm allowed to exercise an admirable amount of creative freedom.'

'Applied Sciences run by that blasted Lucius Fox?' Snarled Bill.

'The very same.' Saoirse said.

'And he's your mentor. What a dratted influence to bestow on such a promising talent!' Bill spat. Thomas Woods nodded his head in agreement.

'You may be unaware but Mr Fox has caused me and Bill some terrible heartache over the past decade.' Thomas began. Saoirse feigned surprise at this statement, hoping to win both men with her innocent disposition.

'What sort of heartache?' She asked, her sincerity sounding horrendously false in her ears.

'Oh, nothing which could interest a pretty face.' Bill oozed, waiting for her to coax his story from him. Saoirse was in no mood to prompt the big oaf's vindictive tale yet knew she must indulge him. Flashing a smile which would impress the Academy Awards, she encouraged Bill to spill his gossip.

'Well this is what happened…' In a few short minutes, Bill had rehashed a story which Mr Fox had painfully recounted the day before yesterday. Bill's version was much rougher and painted Mr Fox in an awful light. When he finished, Saoirse struggled with herself, torn between defending her mentor and preserving the progress she'd made with these two powerful men. Fortunately, the latter won.

'I had no idea my mentor committed such a thing!' She said, doing her best to adopt an appalled tone.

'Your surprise was mirrored by us and following this incident, relations with Mr Fox only went downhill.' Thomas Woods said impassively. 'However, you strike me as someone with a different set of principals compared with your mentor. Somehow, he has not managed to taint you. Perhaps there is hope for Applied Sciences yet…' He continued.

'Nonsense Thomas, you know as well as I do Mr Wayne is long overdue in disposing of that useless department, when was the last time it made a profit? No offense darling.' Bill added.

'Gentleman I don't mean to boast but since I've joined Wayne Enterprise, my so called non-profitable department turned over 200 million dollars.'

'Saoirse, don't be ludicrous!' Bill scoffed.

'Bill, remember your manners. Now Saoirse, how is it you managed to create such a lump sum?'

'I cannot reveal much, confidentiality as I'm sure you both understand, yet what I will say is that I designed this software which has attracted attention from certain governments and military personnel.'

'It sounds a fine idea yet a deal like this would not go unnoticed by Woods Initiative. I'm afraid you may have added a few extra zeros to your estimated turnover.' Thomas Woods said smugly.

'Of course Woods Initiative would have been alerted to a suspicious deal, especially if it concerned software engineered by Wayne Enterprises Applied Science department. But what if the deal was simply stamped with a different title? What if "software" was accidently replaced with the word "property"? Surely such a simple code couldn't bypass the sophisticated personnel of Woods Initiative?' Saoirse allowed the question to hang in the air as realisation dawned on Thomas Woods and Bill's faces. They were remembering a certain news story from a few days ago. The brief story concerned Wayne Enterprises selling new property to the government and military, receiving a mammoth turnover of 200 million in return. The headline would lead readers to assume the word "property" meant housing developments, yet the real inference of the word meant anything owned by Wayne Enterprise. And the software Saoirse had invented had been owned by Wayne Enterprise.

'You ran the story in the paper, the last place anyone would look for a secret deal.' Thomas Woods said in amazement.

'Very crafty… e_xceptionally _sly.' Bill complimented, his forehead bowed in thought. Saoirse allowed a small triumphant smile, she had finally managed to create the impact she'd desired. They were in awe of her, a state beyond charmed. From now on, they would hopefully associate this feeling with the Applied Science department instead of their ill sentiments towards Mr Fox.

Before the conversation could continue, dinner was served. To put it bluntly, it was the best food Saoirse had ever eaten. Courses upon courses of the most delicious delicacies passed through her lips and between meals, Thomas Woods introduced her to the other members of the table. She had to maintain a lethal concentration on the people she was conversing with, she couldn't allow thoughts of Mr Wayne's disappearance behind a mysterious door distract her from the important task in hand.

After winning over these two powerful men, the conversation flowed much more easily around the table and as the wine continued to pour, the men baulked less at the idea of her working in the Applied Science department. As soon as desert was finished, the six men were almost eating out of the palm of her hand. It was amazing what the intelligence of a well-dressed lady could accomplish.

'Excuse me, father? I wished to inform you of my departure.' Saoirse turned to see a dazzlingly handsome man addressing Thomas Woods. She quickly dropped her gaze and accepted some coffee from a passing waiter.

'Eric, that's out of the question, it's half eleven for Christ's sake! What are you going to do with your time, go home and write in your journal?' Thomas Woods asked while the rest of the table chortled. Eric ignored his father as his eyes landed on Saoirse. She didn't notice his gaze, her thoughts dominated by the best cup of coffee she'd ever tasted.

'Enjoying your coffee Saoirse?' Bill asked.

'Oh sweet nectar of the night, where have you been all my life?' She said as the table exploded with laughter.

'Saoirse, may I present my son, Eric Woods. Eric, this is Saoirse Nolan, the best goddamn genius engineer the world has ever known!' The rest of the table cheered at this introduction. Though Saoirse blushed easily, she had found it strangely easy to abstain from throughout the evenings conversation with these men. Their slurred compliments bounced harmlessly off her, while she remained impervious to their lecherous stares.

'Ms Nolan, may I be so bold to ask for the next dance?' Eric asked.

'Eric, stop faffing around; ask her like a real man!' His father boomed. Saoirse was about to ask for Mr Avery's opinion when she realised the chair beside her was empty.

'When did my plus-one disappear?' Saoirse asked.

'He left around course two if I remember correctly, went to the bathroom and never came back.' Bill replied. Saoirse felt slightly guilty about ignoring her plus one but reasoned the table's company had been the main factor to drive Mr Avery away. She envied his ability to leave.

'Sure Eric. Let's go.' She ignored his outstretched hand, ordered the men to guard her clutch before leading the way to the dance floor. To her surprise there were a significant number of couples swaying to the beautiful music, casting ghostly shadows as they moved. Eric placed his arm at a respectable height on her waist, took her hand and they began to circulate around the floor. After a few minutes of conversation, Saoirse had learnt two things about Eric Woods. Firstly, despite his finely chiselled features, he was one of the most boring people she had ever had the misfortune to meet, let alone dance with. Secondly, he was shocking at keeping time with the music; Saoirse wondered what in the world had driven him to ask her to dance. When the string quartet finished, the relief she felt was almost euphoric. As politely as she could, she excused herself to the ladies. Just as she reached the bathrooms door, Saoirse looped around the fine room and within thirty seconds, sat back down at her table.

'That bad eh?' Thomas Woods asked. Not sure how to respond, Saoirse remained silent.

'You poor thing, my son couldn't dance for all the cheese in the world.' Saoirse frowned at this bizarre description while the rest of the table chortled.

'Good evening gentleman, I see you've already become acquainted with my most promising employee.' Saoirse turned to see Mr Avery's vacant chair filled with the imposing figure of Bruce Wayne.

'Bruce, you finally grace us with your presence! It's just as well you left a fascinating employee to distract us.' Thomas Wood said; his cheeks ruby from the free champagne.

'I hope you haven't tried to steal her from my company Mr Woods.' Mr Wayne replied smoothly.

'Nothing of the sort Bruce, but you have indeed found a diamond in the rough. I believe we all understand your sudden enthusiasm to keep your Applied Science division running.' Bill chimed in, finishing with a poorly concealed wink.

'Surely you're not implying that my relationship with Ms Nolan is anything but professional?' Mr Wayne asked dangerously. The playful glint in Bill's eye died instantly and he quickly shook his head.

'Of course not Bruce, don't be ludicrous.'

'Good. How is Woods Initiative these days?'

'Prospering despite these economic times.' Thomas Wood responded smugly. Saoirse watched the conversation with sharp interest, noting Thomas Woods tipsy disposition clashing with Bruce Wayne's controlled demeanour. He wasn't drunk; in fact he wasn't even remotely tipsy. Saoirse bet Mr Wayne hadn't touched a single drop of alcohol since his grand arrival.

'And Ms Nolan, how have you found the company of these gentlemen?' Mr Wayne asked, a mischievous glint shimmering in those dark eyes of his.

'Shall I rate the overall experience out of ten?' She asked the table.

'Oh no, stick with adjectives, otherwise there's a high probability of receiving 0/10!' Bill boomed.

'I admit upon first impression, I believed I was entering into conversation with typical businessmen so consumed with self-obsession that their personalities would only consist of arrogance. I'd just like to thank you for proving me wrong.' Saoirse had never spewed such bullshit.

'I only wish my son had created a more impressive impression on you dear, I wouldn't mind you as a daughter-in-law at all.' Thomas Wood said. Saoirse froze, not wanting this conversation to continue any further.

'Ms Nolan, would you mind if I borrow you?' Mr Wayne smoothly interjected. Saoirse smothered her feelings of elation. The conversation had been approaching dangerous waters and Saoirse would be thrilled to leave.

'Borrow her? Whatever for Bruce?' Thomas Woods asked, reluctant to let Saoirse leave. He was probably already making wedding plans.

'We're in the grandest ballroom in Gotham City and I for one plan to dance. Would you care to accompany me Ms Nolan?' Saoirse baulked at the presented ultimatum. Should she remain in the company of these brutes or slow dance with her playboy boss?

'Ms Nolan?' Mr Wayne asked, not used to repeating these sorts of requests.

'Okay?' She said, not really sure what she was agreeing to. She bid the "gentlemen" goodnight and reluctantly followed Mr Wayne towards the dance floor, hoping she'd picked the lesser of two evils. The musicians struck up a steady waltz, coaxing Saoirse to approach Mr Wayne. A sudden nervousness pricked her spine as his hand rested on her waist. As the waltz began, she could only hope Mr Wayne would avoid stepping on her toes.

'Quite a spectacular entrance Mr Wayne, I was wondering why Mr Fox was so occupied for the past week with harnesses.' She said, hoping to avoid a silent three minute staring contest with her boss.

'It gave me a nice adrenalin rush before the party entered full swing.'

'I'm surprised you didn't fly in with a jetpack attached to your back.'

'I assure you Ms Nolan, if I had a jetpack at my disposal, I would've put it to good use.'

'I'll see if I can cook one up in my department… I'll just say NASA is looking for a new prototype.' Saoirse said, smiling at the thought of creating a jetpack.

'You look very different tonight Ms Nolan. I almost didn't recognise you without your denims or college hoodie.'

'I'm not sure if it's to my liking.' Saoirse said honestly.

'Well it certainly impressed the gentlemen at your table which was part of the point.'

'Take a wild guess how long my beautifying process took.' Saoirse asked, hoping she could maintain the light tone of their conversation.

'I've no idea… two hours?'

'Six.'

'_Six? _Ms Nolan you're toying with me._'_

'I wish I was. You see, this is the reason I remain so casual within the Applied Science wing. If I even attempted to re-create this appearance on a daily basis; I wouldn't make it into work.'

'Speaking of the Applied Science wing, how did you manage it?' He asked.

'Manage what?'

'Those men sitting at your table are some of the most powerful in all of Gotham; they were acting as if they were in the presence of a Goddess.'

'They weren't _that _enamoured with me.' Saoirse said dismissively.

'Mr Woods doesn't declare to every lady he meets that he wants them as his daughter-in-law.'

'I wouldn't marry Eric Woods unless he received a personality transplant and some dancing lessons. He stepped on my feet seven different times!'

'Seven? That's simply pathetic.'

'I'm hoping you'll be slightly lighter of foot.'

'I won't disappoint.' She allowed him to lead her around the room, amazed at the contrast between Eric Woods and Bruce Wayne. Not only could Mr Wayne keep time but his steps were confident, proud and elegant. What an odd couple they were; him the seemingly dull billionaire and she the supposed genius engineer.

'Hang on…' A light bulb was flickering into existence in Saoirse's head.

'What?'

'How long have you been spreading rumours that I'm a "genius" engineer?' She asked.

'I wasn't spreading rumours, just conveying a padded version of the truth.'

'Mr Wayne, as smart as I am, my I.Q. does not qualify for the genius title.'

'Well perhaps you're not a traditional genius.'

'You're only helping to further bastardize the word.' Saoirse said; realising too late she was being incessantly rude.

'I'm bastardizing the word?' He asked while halting their waltz. Saoirse decided to remain perfectly still, not wanting to further insult him. 'Well I suppose I'm not helping the process.' He allowed while continuing their dance. Saoirse stifled her sigh of relief and returned her attention to her mission.

'Is there anyone else I need to charm?' She reluctantly asked.

'Actually no; the six men at your table were the big players applying pressure to close your department. I'd say with their newfound fondness of you, they should withdraw that pressure.'

'So… mission accomplished?' She asked. Mr Wayne chuckled.

'Yes, mission accomplished.'

'Then I believe you owe me a debt.'

'Whatever for?'

'For my unusual services tonight, something of this nature was absent from my job description.'

'You make an interesting case.'

'I'm aware.'

'How about this; seeing as I don't take kindly to being in-debt, you have until the end of this dance where you may ask me anything and I will indulge you.'

Saoirse considered the generous proposal. The first thing which jumped to mind would be access to the mysterious door she'd seen him disappear through earlier. However to ask for this, she would have to admit following him earlier on, a situation she did not want to explain. Then another proposal found its way to the front of Saoirse's thoughts.

'You won't decline, regardless of what I ask?' Saoirse asked.

'Within reason.' Mr Wayne said.

'Well, this is reasonable.'

'Ask away then.'

'It's more of a promise than a request.'

'A promise?'

'A promise which you'll make to me.'

'And what does this promise entail…?'

'You promise to never _ever _force me to attend one of these events again.' Saoirse said. The look on Mr Wayne's face? Priceless.

'I must admit, I wasn't expecting that…' He admitted.

'I believe it's within reason.' Saoirse pushed.

'I agree with you. Although before I promise, may I ask why you're so keen to avoid these future events? I thought you'd enjoy the luxurious distractions.'

'You know what I'd rather be doing now Mr Wayne?' He shook his head. 'Instead of partying, conversing and sampling fine foods, I'd prefer to be sitting at home in my scruffiest pyjamas watching a disturbing movie.'

'So let me get this straight, you'd prefer to be home alone instead of dancing with me? I must admit Ms Nolan; my pride is a little hurt.'

'I don't like being the centre of attention.' Saoirse said defensively, not caring if she'd dented his arrogant pride.

'Our genius engineer is an introvert. I'm shocked.'

'Mr Wayne, I wouldn't be surprised if you were too.'

'Ms Nolan you would have to be living beneath a rock to think I was withdrawn from society. I'm a rich bachelor in my twenties, all I have time for is socialising.' He said with a forced laugh. 'And when you say unsettling movies, what kind of disturbing are you implying?'

'I mostly watch films starring my favourite actor who just so happens to be dancing over there.'

'_That's _your favourite actor?' Mr Wayne asked incredulously as they brushed shoulders with him.

'He commits himself 100% to the role whether it's losing or gaining weight, growing or shaving hair, gaining or removing tattoos. He's bloody brilliant.'

'He's not the prettiest of faces.'

'That doesn't matter, it's his eyes.'

'What about his eyes?'

'The characters he portrays usually undergo violent or grievous events. In order to convey such a protagonist, when the camera concentrates on his eyes, they have to hurt.' Saoirse said.

'What a poignant description… Would you like me to introduce you to him?' Mr Wayne asked. Saoirse shook her head. 'Why not? He'll be quite relaxed and would probably entertain you with a lengthy conversation.'

'I've completely idolised him, he couldn't possibly live up to my expectations. Instead of having his image tainted with disappointment, I'd rather remain ignorant.' They stayed quiet for a few seconds, listening to the notes which lilted over the surrounding crowd.

'So do you accept my proposal?' Saoirse asked.

'Very well Ms Nolan, I give you my word that I will never force you to attend such splendid events in the future.'

'Shake on it.' Saoirse insisted.

'Do you want me to pinkie promise as well?' He asked sarcastically. Saoirse dropped her arms and extended her hand, looking at Mr Wayne expectantly.

'You're about to find out how stubborn I can be.' Saoirse said, her hand hovering in the no-man's land separating them.

'Two can play that game.' Mr Wayne responded. He took her extended hand but instead of shaking it, quickly pressed his lips against her knuckles. Saoirse felt her cheeks explode with heat as he returned her hand. The music ended and she quickly concentrated on applauding the talented musicians who to her horror were about to begin another tune. Suddenly terrified Mr Wayne was going to ask for another dance, Saoirse quickly excused herself and hurried towards the ladies. Though it was the best excuse to escape an uncomfortable situation, Saoirse couldn't hide from the truth: she'd run away from Mr Wayne as if he had a contagious disease. Oh the shame! Where had Saoirse Nolan disappeared to? The one who could handle any powerful man regardless of how pompously rich or good looking he was? She was probably hibernating for the next few days, burnt out from constantly socialising with pretentious men… Her reaction to Mr Wayne's flirtatious action was completely normal; she'd simply reached her breaking point for the evening. The next obvious step would be to sneak out of the building and escape home. Hopefully she wouldn't bump into Mr Wayne en-route.

'Champagne Miss?' A bathroom attendant offered. Throughout the course of the evening, Saoirse had only consumed a third of her White Russian; surely she deserved a drink now.

'Thanks.' She said while gratefully accepting the glass. The champagne was marvellous, relieving her stress with each exploding bubble. She threw back the couple of mouthfuls and replaced the empty glass on the attendant's tray. The liquid fizzling in her stomach soothed away thoughts of a hastily constructed escape plan. It renewed her failing courage and a minute later, she found herself leaving the bathrooms temporary sanctuary. The warm feeling spread throughout her body, encouraging Saoirse to enjoy the rest of her evening. The alcohol soothed her anxiety of bumping into Mr Wayne, reassuring her that upon such a meeting, she would handle the situation with grace. She stepped around the dance floor, ignored Eric Woods' attempts to attract her attention and ascended the marble staircase. She found herself on the first tier and approached a gothic looking window where the view caused her to splutter with laughter. The window provided a hilarious sight of the hotel's car park where limo drivers had fought viciously for car parking spaces. There were at least fifty of them! She giggled while watching two limo drivers deep in argument, pointing their gloved fingers in a threatening manner. Wait… was it two or four drivers who were fighting? It was two… no, wait, definitely four… maybe five? And when did the edges of these expensive cars become so hazy? She rubbed her eyes for a second but when she returned her attention to the window, her vision continued to blur. The cars appeared to be melting into one another. Saoirse finally realised what she was seeing wasn't normal and looked to attract the attention of someone nearby. She approached a well-dressed lady.

'Excuse me –' Yet her voice died in her throat when the lady turned to her, her makeup was dripping off her face.

'Yes dear?' The grotesque creature asked. Terror spiked Saoirse's spine as her face continued to stream. Her husband also turned towards Saoirse, his remaining hair falling to the floor as his face too began to melt. Stifling a scream, Saoirse began to back away from the hideous people.

'Are you alright dear? You don't look too well...' The lady said. Saoirse put her hands up, wanting to maintain a safe distance from these people. She couldn't let them touch her under any circumstances. She reluctantly looked at the other party guests, horrified to find their faces disintegrating as well.

'S-Sorry, I mistook you for someone else.' Saoirse managed to splutter, hurrying towards the nearby staircase. What the hell was going on? When did everyone start melting as if they were made of wax? Although she couldn't make sense of the surrounding madness, her paranoia focused on one thing: she needed to reach a safe place, a room where these scary people couldn't touch her. She stumbled down the marble staircase, her feet becoming heavier with each step. She ignored the world as it spun around her, keeping her head down so the melting people wouldn't notice her quick escape. Was she the only one whose skin wasn't dripping? She touched her own face but found the skin smooth and solid. Finding herself beside the bar, she tried to ignore the bartender whose face dripped onto the glasses he was polishing.

'Are you alright Miss?' He asked but his words were muffled as if he had a rag tied over his disintegrating mouth. Saoirse managed a twitchy smile, fear dominating her vision as she staggered through the concealed doorway adjacent to the bar. Upon entering the door lined corridor, she was terrified to witness the doors withdrawing into the surrounding walls, the paint dripping over the retreating wood. Saoirse screamed, fearing she would be locked in the white room for eternity. With a burst of adrenaline, she charged through the door at the end of the corridor and managed to make it through before it disappeared. She leant heavily against the spiral staircase, her head pounding painfully. Nausea reared its ugly head, constantly threatening to overwhelm her as she crawled up the twisting staircase. A familiar imposing door loomed ahead, teasing her with the possible sanctuary it could provide. Saoirse blearily gazed at the security system, knowing she was in no fit state to open this door. Nausea prevented any solutions forming as she quickly leaned over the railing and threw up the most expensive dinner of her life. She weakly slid to the ground, the metal of the door cool against her cheek. Despite feeling pathetically weak, Saoirse's head felt clearer after vomiting. She couldn't figure out why her logic felt so flawed. Those people with the melting faces looked so real... yet what if she were hallucinating? But in order to hallucinate she had to take something to trigger the bizarre distortions. She wasn't drunk, she'd barely consumed two measures of alcohol throughout the entire evening and she most certainly hadn't accepted any dodgy substances. Despite trying to reassure herself that the people with the disintegrating faces weren't real, she still remained paranoid they would find her. Her desire for safety outweighed her concern for telling the difference between real or imaginary.

Suddenly her disturbed mind had an idea. She slowly rummaged in her purse, took out her mobile phone and clumsily accessed Mr Fox's uploaded software. If she was in no fit state to hack this security system, perhaps Mr Fox's software would be up to the task. The phone's display began to blur before her eyes but she persevered, selecting what she hoped was the correct program. She clawed upwards, managing to regain a standing position and shoved the phone against the keypad. Sweat dripped into her eyes and down her back. She was vaguely aware the security system was hissing and emitting sparks yet it sounded muffled as if the security system was in a different building...

With a groan, the steel door swung inwards, finally granting her sanctuary. She stumbled inside, tripped and fell onto the carpeted floor. Saoirse couldn't stand up so she lay there, inhaling the candyfloss scented carpet. That was odd... carpets shouldn't smell of candyfloss. Or should they? Her brain was too exhausted to care. As the door swung shut behind her, some of her paranoia vanished. She felt safe here, there were no illusionary or real zombies in this small room. She finally relaxed; content to breathe in the candyfloss scented carpet.

Her last thought before drifting into unconsciousness was hoping this would all make sense when she next woke up.


	14. Chapter 14

Saoirse's eyes felt as if they were taped shut. With difficulty, she managed to wrench her lids open and blearily took in her surroundings. As she sat up she realised one thing about her unfamiliar environment: she wasn't at home. The bed she occupied was queen sized with luxurious pillows topped with a feather padded quilt and the ten foot window at the end of the room offered access to a handsome balcony where a stunning view was probably to be had. A plasma TV the size of a bus's windscreen dominated one of the walls while antique furniture was stylishly places throughout the room. Saoirse guessed she was in an expensive chamber of Gotham's oldest hotel where Wayne Enterprise's celebration had taken place. Glancing down, she found Mr Avery's expensive gown acting as a makeshift nightdress which only fuelled her suspicions. Regardless of how tired she had been, Saoirse would have made sure the dress was hanging in a wardrobe before lying down. She leant back against the pillows, closed her eyes and began retracing her night beginning at the red carpet. Despite her pounding headache, she knew alcohol wasn't to blame for her memory gap; she'd been very strict on consuming minimal amounts of it…

'Ah good, Ms Nolan, you're awake.'

"AHHHHHHHHH!" Saoirse roared before tumbling off the bed in shock. Something dug into her spine forcing her to yelp with pain as she clawed to her knees, trying to see who had frightened her half to death.

'I didn't mean to scare you Ms Nolan, but I did knock.' The voice belonged to an older man who was dressed as if he were attending a funeral. 'Are you alright ma'am?'

'Sorry but… who exactly are you?' Saoirse asked, becoming more guarded by the second.

'My word, how rude of me. Alfred Pennyworth at your service.'

'Nice to meet you Alfred.' Saoirse said uncertainly, doing her best to stand up after tumbling to the ground. A back spasm forced her to yelp against her will, pushing her back to the carpeted floor.

'Are you sure you're alright Ms Nolan?'

'I should be fine in a moment… If you don't mind me asking Alfred, what exactly are you doing here?'

'To announce breakfast is ready.' Ah so he was a porter.

'Eh thank you but couldn't I order some room service a little later?'

'Room service ma'am?'

'Surely this hotel has room service.'

'If you don't mind my inquiring Ms Nolan, where exactly do you think you are?'

'In Gotham's oldest hotel of course, I presumed this to be one of its more expensive rooms.'

'Granted this is a guest chamber Ms Nolan and a very fashionably decorated one at that. Yet the fact remains you're not in a hotel, you're currently residing in Wayne Mansion.'

Saoirse's jaw dropped. 'W-What?' She spluttered.

'I'm Mr Wayne's butler and he sent me to inform you that breakfast is ready. He was aware you were still in your evening dress so he took the liberty of supplying some casual clothes.' Alfred indicated the beautifully carved dresser adjacent to the monstrous television. 'How about I return in ten minutes and show you to the breakfast room?' Saoirse could only nod as her voice was currently hiding beneath the bed and would take some time to find.

'Very well Ms Nolan.' Alfred turned and left the chamber, leaving a dumbfounded Saoirse behind. She was in Wayne Mansion? How the _hell _did she end up here? The last memory she had was seeking refuge in a bathroom after a particularly awkward dance with Mr Wayne. The mansion was on the outskirts of the city… at least ten kilometres from Gotham's hotel. Perhaps the party had found its way back to Wayne Mansion and the young billionaire had generously invited everyone to his "humble" abode. Or maybe he'd drugged her, thrown her over his shoulder and brought her back here. Each reason she came up with was more ridiculous than its predecessor. The fact was she remained clueless as to how she'd arrived at the most expensive house in the country.

She slowly stood up; afraid her back would begin to spasm again. Moving gingerly around the room, she approached the excellently hewn set of drawers and concentrated on getting changed. After accomplishing this without triggering tendrils of pain, her thoughts fizzed over with endless suspicions and possible answers. She stopped her mind pummelling her with different questions, knowing there was only one person who could answer them. And he was expecting her for breakfast. A polite knock announced the return of Mr Wayne's butler and Saoirse quickly followed him out into a marvellously decorated corridor.

'Unfortunately I don't have the time to properly show you around Ms Nolan, Mr Wayne remains quite anxious to see you.'

'Does he?' Saoirse muttered, the wariness fading from her walk upon realising the back spasms weren't returning.

'This way.' Alfred said leading her down a corridor lined with many expensive originals which Saoirse would have loved to examine in detail. The butler approached and descended a magnificent staircase not unlike the one present in Gotham's oldest hotel. Saoirse quickly followed and was shown into the breakfast room, a humble chamber the size of her entire apartment. Bruce Wayne sat at the head of a lengthy oak table, dressed in an orange and green dressing gown with the initials "BW" stamped onto the breast pocket, his head buried in a copy of The Gotham Times. Alfred guided her towards the seat on his right; pulling it out for her once they'd arrived. Mr Wayne continued to ignore Saoirse as Alfred served her breakfast, poured her coffee and exited the room with Mr Wayne's empty plates. She felt sorry for the butler who had served such an arrogant master for over twenty years.

'I'm hoping you can answer a few queries of mine.' Mr Wayne began while finally putting down his newspaper. Saoirse managed to swallow hundreds of her own questions, hoping she had enough patience to await an opportunity to ask them. 'As you may notice, you have not woken up in your own bed; you're in my house or you may know it as Wayne Mansion. This was not your plan for the end of evening. I also had no intention of this occurring yet one must be adaptable to circumstances which they hold no control over... But before I divulge to you what I know, let me hear what you remember of the celebration. I would prefer if you focus on the latter memories of the night, up until the point where everything goes blank.'

'How do you know I have a memory blank?' Saoirse asked suspiciously.

'As I said before Ms Nolan, I will divulge to you what I know after you tell me what you remember.' He folded his arms and looked at her expectantly.

'I've had hangovers Mr Wayne where trying to recall the evening before has proved to be impossible. Yet that night… I remember everything perfectly up until a point.'

'And which point is that?'

'I entered the bathroom after midnight, just after you'd promised me I never had to attend the annual celebration again… and then nothing. It's an impenetrable veil of darkness. I can't remember anything else, even leaving.'

'How much alcohol did you consume during the party?'

'A third of a White Russian at the beginning and some champagne at the end.'

'Did you drink anything in the bathroom?'

'That's where I had my champagne; a bathroom attendant offered it to me.' She was surprised to see Mr Wayne's face contorted in a grave frown. Seriousness wasn't something she was used to from the carefree playboy.

'You've been honest with me, now it's time I return the favour.' He let out a deep breath. 'Judging from your story and the unconscious state I later discovered you in, I believe that champagne you consumed was spiked with the drug Flunitrazepam. You may be familiar with its nickname; "Roofies".' A horrendous shiver stole through Saoirse's body as her face paled.

'T-The date-rape drug?' She whispered. Mr Wayne nodded.

'Do you remember what this bathroom attendant looked like?'

'Em, blonde, average height...'

'Would you recognise a picture of her?'

'Probably not.' Saoirse muttered, her face aghast at the horrendous possibility of someone wanting to harm her in that manner. The fear quickly mutated into a raging anger, she wanted to find this bathroom attendant and punch her with her bare knuckles until all she could see was red. 'Where did you find me?' Saoirse spat through gritted teeth.

'You really don't remember?' He asked, something like relief swirling in his eyes. Saoirse shook her head.

'I found you on the balcony of the first tier, overlooking the car park.'

'How long had I been there?'

'Seconds, I passed by just as you slumped to the ground.'

'So no-one…. No-one _did _anything –'

'No.'

Saoirse fixed him with a steely glare. 'Did you?' She asked in a dangerously quiet voice. The extent of her anger could be measured by this blatant accusation.

'My reputation as a "playboy" does not help here, but know this Ms Nolan: In my life I have _never_ forced a woman to do something against her will.'

Saoirse finished her coffee, knowing she believed him.

'But why bring me here?' She asked.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean… why not reserve a room in the hotel?'

'It was fully booked due to the amount of people who stayed there after the party. You were unconscious not ill so I couldn't take you to a hospital, I then decided you should stay here until you woke up.'

'But I was only out for a few hours; I mean you didn't have to bring me here until I woke up.'

'Ms Nolan, you've been unconscious for the past forty-eight hours.' Again, Saoirse's jaw dropped.

'Two _entire _days? Did I whack my head after I slumped?'

'When you fell, it wasn't graceful. Your back hit something on the way down which probably accounts for the spasm you had this morning.'

'How did you know that?' Saoirse asked doubtfully.

'Alfred told me about putting the fear of God into you this morning.'

'Oh.' Her anger began to dwindle as the conversation steered towards normal territory. Despite her drink being spiked, she had not come to harm. The relief was beginning to smother her anger; she found tranquillity silencing her fevered thoughts.

'You should stay for the rest of the week until your back heals properly.'

'My back's fine Mr Wayne, there's nothing to heal.'

'I beg to differ.' His hand darted out and pressed firmly against her spine. A jet of white hot pain tore up her vertebrae making her stifle a cry of pain while her eyes burned with tears. As the flames of pain were doused, she hurriedly blinked the moisture from her eyes and fixed Mr Wayne with the filthiest look she could muster.

'You're. An. Ass.' She spat, hoping she'd provoked his infamous temper. However, instead of becoming angry, Mr Wayne appeared amused.

'You know, I can count on one hand the amount of people with enough bravery and stupidity to say that to my face. Congratulations, you've just joined a highly exclusive club.'

'My back hurts slightly. So what? That doesn't explain why I have to remain here.'

'You don't _have _to but it would be wiser if you did.'

'Are you going to keep jabbing me until I yield?'

'Don't be ludicrous.'

'So why should I even consider staying?'

'Because here you can have access to a chiropractor, masseuse and physiotherapist free of charge. Plus you won't have to visit them; they'll all come to you.'

'Why do I need these people?'

'Ms Nolan, I lasted a few semesters in Princeton College where the anatomy of the human body fascinated me while the lectures simply bored me. Yet I know some things about the spine and when it becomes injured there are usually serious repercussions if it is not correctly taken care of.'

'I pulled a muscle Mr Wayne; I seriously doubt I have nerve damage.'

'We'll let the chiropractor figure that out instead.' He said smugly.

'I'm not sure Mr Fox; _my boss _will be too pleased with my absence from the Applied Science Wing.'

'I'll make sure he understands the situation.' He said dismissively.

Saoirse shunted her pride and looked at the situation logically. Her back was injured; Mr Wayne could provide world class help if she remained here. Besides it wouldn't be as if she were spending every single minute of every single day with him, the house was far too big for any awkwardness to ensue.

'Alright, I'll stay.' She said quietly.

'A wise decision.' He said while standing up. 'Now, I have a few things to attend to. Make yourself at home and if you have any queries, just ask Alfred.' With that he abruptly began to leave the room. Saoirse swallowed her pride and did what she knew was the right thing to do.

'Mr Wayne?' She called. He turned; his dressing gown flapping hilariously.

'Yes?'

'Thank you.' She said while examining her fork.

'I suppose you might say you owe me a debt?' Saoirse looked up at him in horror. 'It'll be interesting to figure out how you might repay said debt.' He said with a mischievous smile. Before Saoirse could protest, he'd exited the breakfast room. Her fork hovered in mid-air as she tried to figure out how the conversation had concluded so poorly for her. Being in-debt to Mr Wayne was not going to end well for her.


	15. Chapter 15

Bruce Wayne closed the door of the breakfast room and hurried upstairs, his slippers slapping against the polished marble. He was impervious to the sumptuous decoration which surrounded him, his mind replaying the conversation he'd just conducted. He'd been watching Ms Nolan carefully, looking for signs of deception yet her body language and tone of voice led him to believe she hadn't lied. She'd truly believed the story he had spun for her.

He climbed another staircase and opened the door to his own bedroom where he found Alfred and Mr Fox waiting for him.

'Good morning Mr Fox.'

'You seem better dressed for it than I sir.'

'Well, it is my favourite dressing gown. Did you run those blood samples for me?' He asked while throwing the newspaper onto a nearby desk.

'Yes sir, I have the results right here.' Mr Fox opened a laptop and set it down on a nearby table. 'This blood… you said it was yours sir?'

'Yes, I took something strange at the Wayne Enterprise party and wanted to see exactly what it was.'

'Mr Wayne, you are male are you not?' Mr Fox asked.

'I would be having a lot of trouble with the ladies if I wasn't.'

'It's just when I ran the tests, I couldn't help noticing the XX chromosome present in the blood. And if it _is _your blood sir, then you most certainly are not male.'

'What concern is it of yours Mr Fox?'

'Usually I would turn a blind eye to this sort of thing Mr Wayne, yet after running the tests, I realised this DNA was a perfect match for my only employee; Saoirse Nolan. I can only presume this secretive manner of yours indicates you haven't asked for Ms Nolan's consent. Now before I give you the results, I would like to know exactly what is going on.'

Bruce sighed while weighing up his options. Usually he preferred keeping Mr Fox in the dark, knowing he didn't need the extra details to understand the big picture. Explaining the current situation would be disclosing more information than he was comfortable with but he had no choice: he needed the results of those tests.

'It's Ms Nolan's blood and no I did not ask for her consent to draw it or run the tests.'

'But why the secretiveness Mr Wayne?'

'Tell me the results of the test and I give you my word that I'll explain everything.' Mr Fox observed him shrewdly before unlocking his laptop and accessing the results. A diagram appeared on the small screen, the line spiking and falling at irregular intervals. 'What is this?' Bruce asked.

'It seems to be a new type of drug, I've heard rumours about it in the east but I never realised it was in production. It's called cerulean due to the drug being the colour of light blue. It dissolves best in alcohol and is ingested orally.'

'What happens after it's ingested?'

'It takes a few minutes for the effects to begin but when they do, the drug provides a powerful hallucinogenic experience. The vision is considerably distorted; mostly images of people's skin melting which generates a profound paranoia. The subject's main priority is to find a place of safety where they can keep away from the disintegrating people. Sound is perceived from a long distance generating a muffled effect and the sense of balance is upset. The hallucinations stop after ten minutes and are followed by the subject falling prey to a coma-like state, lasting up to three days.'

'Side effects?'

'The most common one is amnesia; the subject remembers nothing of the experience from the moment the drug is taken. However after the drug-induced coma passes, the subject wakes up without suffering any lasting effects.'

'Then she was telling the truth about not remembering …' Bruce heaved a sigh of relief.

'Now why would that work in your favour Mr Wayne?'

'I found her in the coma-like state you just described, but you'll never guess where she was when I discovered her.'

'Where sir?'

'She found her way into the high security chamber I had specially organised to house my… _favourite _suit.'

'You had your _best _suit present at the annual celebration? Did it cross your mind that it might be slightly risky to have it near so many people Mr Wayne…?'

'I didn't think there was anyone present who was smart enough to override the security system. Besides, I needed it close at hand in case I needed to deal with a situation requiring more _comfortable _clothing. She was clenching this in her palm when I found her.' Bruce handed over the mobile phone to Mr Fox. 'There's quite an array of programmes to be found on that tiny contraption, Mr Fox.'

'Extraordinary, even in her unstable mind-set, she was able to run the correct programme and hack through your security system… she is truly remarkable.'

'Anything she saw in that chamber… will she remember it?'

'No Mr Wayne, the memory loss subjects suffer from taking cerulean is absolute. Your favourite suit is still for your eyes alone. Now Mr Wayne, what I want to know is how cerulean managed to enter Ms Nolan's bloodstream.'

'Surely you're not implying that _I _drugged her.'

'But if you didn't… then who did?'

'That's exactly what I'm trying to figure out. Ms Nolan said she accepted a glass of champagne from one of the attendants in the bathroom and can't remember anything after that.'

'You believe this beverage was contaminated with cerulean?'

'Yes.'

'Have you checked the CCTV footage from the evening in question? The bathroom attendant should be caught on camera at least once.'

'I did but imagine my surprise when the data I was looking for was nowhere to be found.'

'Excuse me Mr Wayne?'

'Here, I'll show you.' He started a nearby computer, entered in some commands and pressed enter. The screen immediately went blank, followed by green type appearing on the monitor, declaring the files Mr Wayne was searching for to be missing.

'Missing? As in stolen?' Mr Fox asked in amazement.

'Completely untraceable, I can't figure out who hacked into the system and took the footage.'

'Someone who obviously wanted to conceal their identity.' Mr Fox said.

'It seems that way… Mr Fox, when you conducted the background check on Ms Nolan, did you find anything peculiar?'

'Define peculiar, sir.'

'Was there any evidence to suggest a family feud, someone wanting to do Ms Nolan harm, anything along that train of thought?'

'No Mr Wayne, her past is scrupulously clean. Her parents are two religious nuts which she is estranged from yet they remain completely harmless.'

'She has no other family?'

'No sir.'

'Siblings? Aunts? Uncles? Grand-parents? Cousins?'

'No sir.'

'Well then, it appears either Ms Nolan is the unfortunate victim of a drug experiment, or there's something she's keeping from us.'

'What do you plan on telling Ms Nolan about your discoveries Mr Wayne? She'll demand answers concerning where she woke up and her loss of memory.'

'I've already taken care of it.'

'What did you tell her?'

'A version of the truth; that her drink had been spiked with a roofie and I'd had her transported back here after discovering her unconscious body on the first floor balcony.'

'Do you think it wise to keep the truth from her sir?'

'For now. She's staying for the rest of the week until her back heals, I'll be keeping a close eye on her to see if I can learn why someone would want to drug her.'

'Well I thought that would be obvious sir.'

'Obvious?'

'Cerulean isn't a drug employed for kicks Mr Wayne, its main purpose is to confuse and eventually sedate a person about to be kidnapped.'

'Kidnapped? Someone tried to kidnap Ms Nolan at Wayne Enterprises annual celebration?'

'They obviously underestimated her survival instinct Mr Wayne.'

'But why kidnap Ms Nolan? She has no wealth so ransom is completely out of the question...'

'I don't know; it is something which unsettles me greatly.' Bruce began chewing his nails, feeling annoyed at the recent development. The main worry he had upon waking up this morning was if Ms Nolan had seen the bat suit. He'd had no thoughts of someone trying to kidnap her. What possible reason could justify kidnapping Saoirse Nolan?

'If there's anything else Mr Wayne…?'

'No, thank you Mr Fox, you're free to leave. You've given me a lot to think about.'

'Goodbye Mr Wayne. Alfred.'

'Have a safe journey Lucius.' The butler replied. Mr Fox closed the door quietly, leaving Bruce alone with his oldest ally.

'Alfred… why would someone want to kidnap Saoirse?' He asked quietly.

'Well Master Wayne, why does anyone kidnap anything? In order to gain something they did not previously have.'

'Most criminals kidnap for money… is she in some sort of debt?'

'Forgive me Master Wayne but perhaps you're looking at this from the wrong perspective.'

'How do you mean Alfred?'

'Maybe this criminal desired something more fruitful than money: knowledge.'

'Knowledge of what?'

'Ms Nolan strikes me as a person equipped with a rare range of skills similar in many ways to your own sir, and to the right person, these skills would serve them better than any amount of money in the world. The knowledge Ms Nolan holds could grant this criminal something much worse than money Master Wayne.'

'Power?'

'Exactly sir. And as batman has witnessed from his nightly activities, power is really the true desire of all criminals.'

'So what knowledge does Ms Nolan possess which could grant the right criminal power?'

'Now Master Wayne, you're asking the right questions.' Alfred picked up the discarded newspaper and folded it neatly before fixing the rest of the chamber.

'Alfred… do you remember the evening I rented out the tumbler?'

'Yes Master Wayne.'

'What if that wasn't a co-incidence? What if Ms Nolan was targeted that very evening by the same people who tried to drug her a few days ago?'

'It doesn't seem completely out of the question sir. Do you happen to remember any of the attackers?'

Bruce nodded before returning to his computer. After furiously typing in some commands, the Gotham Police database was free for him to search. After typing in some nicknames he remembered, a mug shot of a man with yellowing teeth and matted hair presented itself on the monitor.

'John D Williams, three charges of possessing heroin, two assaults with a knife, two counts of battery, released early for good behaviour. He was the one holding Saoirse's friend hostage when I arrived that night. I wonder if he'd have any information about the drug cerulean… it wouldn't hurt to have a chat with him I suppose.'

'Where do you think he'll be?'

'It's never hard to find a junkie Alfred, you simply find the stash and you'll find him.'

'And will you be wearing your favourite suit on this venture Master Wayne?'

'Now Alfred, how would I pose a daunting impression without it?'

'Very true sir. I suspect you'll be preparing for departure this evening?'

'Absolutely. Make sure you have an excuse for our guest as to why I can't attend dinner.'

'I'm sure she'll be relieved sir.'

'Relieved? Surely I'm not _that _taxing Alfred.'

'Well step into her shoes for a moment sir. She's just awoken in an unfamiliar house where she has been informed she was drugged and to top it all off, she has to remain here for the next week and entertain a man with a reputation such as Bruce Wayne commands. I believe allowing Ms Nolan her own space is the best welcoming present you could give to her.' 

Bruce ran a hand through his hair while a smile pulled at his lips. 'You're probably right Alfred. Now leave me in peace so I can finish my crossword.'

'Very well Master Wayne.'

As soon as his butler left, Bruce ignored the newspaper and began to conduct his own research on Saoirse Nolan. Her school records showed strangely average grades in school which inexplicably blossomed into brilliance in college, she hadn't been a popular kid and had remained absent from extra-curricular activities. Her only detention was given to her because she'd handed up a detailed drawing of a clarinet in a geography test. She'd never left America, never broken the law, she'd lived on her own since she was seventeen, supporting herself with a part-time job and had paid her own university fees. The job she currently worked at Wayne Enterprise was normal, the information she had access to held no power, hence the reason the position had been offered to a college student. Despite hours spent trawling through her records, Bruce found nothing which would suggest she was worth kidnapping. He stared at her picture on the monitor while chewing his own nails.

'What aren't you telling me?' He wondered aloud.


	16. Chapter 16

'Checkmate.' Saoirse said, earning her third win in a row.

'Well would you look at that, you've beaten me again Ms Nolan!'

'Alfred please, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Saoirse.'

'Very well, Saoirse it is. Seeing as I've lost, I suppose I should prepare some tea and biscuits as a peace offering?'

'The victor would greatly appreciate it.' Saoirse replied. Over the past five days, an unexpected friendship had blossomed between her and the butler; he had demonstrated fascinating opinions on a wide range of subjects and as was usual of astute men, he remained unaware of his wisdom. He had also taken time from his busy schedule to provide her with a full tour of the grand house, providing scintillating facts concerning the different masters of Wayne Mansion. Of all its many rooms, the one she occupied remained her favourite. It was the library; a handsomely decorated room with dark panels of wood complimenting the towering bookcases. The ceiling stretched some twenty five feet away while the ancient chandelier was rooted in a most fantastic fresco depicting the perfect forms of angels by an artist long deceased. The polished floor supported elegant tables and sinfully comfortable chairs while an old globe opened at its equator to reveal a secret bar stocked with expensive alcohol and Cuban cigars. Exquisitely handmade carpets decorated the floor in the same manner oil paintings ornamented the walls. A magnificent marble fireplace dominated the east wall, the fantastic shadows from the flickering flames granting its carved animals illusionary movement. The room was divided into two levels, the second tier which could be accessed by a spiralling staircase provided access to rare tomes along with a window seat granting a panoramic view of the luxurious grounds through a colossal sheet of glass. The sight was especially spectacular on a clear night as the lack of light pollution allowed the moon and stars to be revealed in all their glory. The ambience of the room was completed by the lack of electricity; oil lamps or candles stood proudly on the antique furnishings or peered down from the well placed chandelier.

Saoirse was sitting on the second tier near the expansive window, carefully resetting the expensive chess set. The roman style pieces were made from heavy crushed marble and had been sculpted by a deft hand. Alfred had said this particular set had remained on this very table for over fifty years and was not to be moved under any circumstances. She picked up one of the rooks and examined it carefully, wondering the price which would be offered if the entire set was for sale. As she replaced the rook on its rightful square, Alfred reappeared below, placing a tea tray beside the fireplace. Saoirse reluctantly left the upper tier, descended the tightly wound staircase and sat in one of the plush chairs. Her attention was distracted repeatedly by the beauty surrounding her, the candlelight creating a most entrancing vision.

'My my, you're more enamoured with this room than ever.' Alfred said. With much effort, she managed to wrench her gaze away from the stunning spectacle.

'I'm not sure it's possible for me to tire of this room Alfred. It's simply splendid.'

'I'm glad you appreciate it Ms Nolan.' Saoirse was about to correct Ms Nolan to her forename but resisted the temptation. It was most likely that Alfred would always refer to her as Ms Nolan for the rest of her life.

'Is Mr Wayne away at another social event?' She asked. Throughout her stay, she had only caught fleeting glimpses of Wayne Mansion's master. Either he was attending some sumptuous soiree or was occupied with sleeping in till 4pm the following day. It was a tough life being a billionaire playboy.

'I believe so.'

'…Does he ever play chess?'

'What a strange question to ask. Do you plan on challenging him to a match?'

'Only if he's worth duelling.'

'Well I can't say he's had much experience with the game although I would say he has the foundation to become an excellent player… if he ever tried that is.' Saoirse hid her disappointment. Challenging Mr Wayne to a chess match would have provided an ample opportunity to obtain an examination of his mind, she would have been able to detect whether a genius intellect lay behind his playboy antics.

'Thank you for the tea Alfred but I think I'll go to bed.'

'An excellent idea Ms Nolan, I was hoping to retire myself. I presume you've become familiar enough with the house in order to locate your room?'

'I'm pretty sure if you blind-folded me, I'd make it back alright.'

'Very well then. Good night Ms Nolan.'

'Night Alfred.' Saoirse rose, stretched elaborately and exited the library. The sumptuous corridors guided her back to her own room and soon she was changed and lay between the comfortable sheets, wondering what it would be like to grow up amidst such splendour.

* * *

Saoirse was surprised to find Mr Wayne reading his newspaper as she entered the breakfast room. He was wearing the same dressing gown as before yet appeared far more tired, dark bags circled dangerously beneath his eyes. He glanced up from the paper and beckoned her over. She reluctantly sat on his right side, trying to block out his presence with freshly brewed coffee.

'Rough night?' Saoirse ventured.

'Rougher than usual.' He replied with a small smile. 'How's your physiotherapy coming along? I heard the chiropractor said you had nothing to worry about after he examined you.' Saoirse couldn't help feeling as if Mr Wayne was assuming some fatherly position concerning her well-being.

'She said the muscles of my back are incredibly tense and in order for her to properly work on them, the tension needs to be released.'

'After breakfast your masseuse should arrive. He's a French fellow by the name Pierre Baudelaire, no connection to the famous author, though he is a _very _talented masseuse. He'll work on you in your room.'

'Eh… good.' Saoirse responded uncertainly. The rest of the breakfast was finished in silence while Saoirse pondered whether she should be concerned about the French male who would be working on her exposed back. A few minutes later she returned to her bedroom to find it dark, lit only by a few scented candles. A portable massage bed lay out in the centre of the room complimented by a dainty table full of intriguing oils. She flicked on the light switch but found no-one else in the room. A dressing gown lay suggestively on the bed which she stepped into after making sure a French man wasn't hiding beneath the bed or behind the pulled curtains. She uncertainly turned off the light and sat on the edge of the massage bed, trying not to fidget. Suddenly the door opened and quickly closed, followed by the sounds of footsteps approaching the bed.

'Bonjour madam, je m'appele Pierre Baudelaire. There's no need to be uncomfortable, lie down so I may remove the upper part of your dressing gown.' He finished in heavily accented English. Saoirse did as she was instructed, comforting herself with the knowledge that if Pierre tried any funny business, she'd leave him with a shining black eye. She tensed as the gown was drawn back, revealing her shoulder blades and the curve of her spine. She heard some oils being prepared before they were drizzled lazily over her back and refrained from flinching as the unfamiliar fingers began massaging her skin. At first it was rough-going however that was mostly because she wasn't comfortable with the current situation. Yet as the minutes trickled past, she began to relax into the bed, allowing the surrounding scents to lull her into a sense of security. Mr Wayne hadn't been exaggerating Pier's skills; he was easily able to loosen the knots of tension, his confident hands employing different techniques which provided heavenly results. He only spoke occasionally throughout the session to make sure he was massaging the right area but refrained from making small talk much to Saoirse's relief. Just as the hour was almost up, Saoirse asked Pier her only question.

'Pierre, which part of France are you from?'

'Marseille.' He responded. Saoirse immediately froze, knowing instantly that something was wrong.

'Ms Nolan, s'il vous plait –' Saoirse couldn't relax the muscles in her back for all the champagne in France. The manner in which he had said Marseille was not the correct pronunciation. Back in high school three French girls from Marseille came over for an exchange and the way in which they pronounced their hometown was nothing like the pronunciation her masseuse had just uttered. He was a big phony, a fake. Having her masseuse throw on a false identity a few days after her drink had been spiked was not something she could ignore. It was too big a co-incidence. Perhaps he was back to finish what he had started? Saoirse needed to figure out who this imposter was before he realised she'd cottoned onto his charade which required making a split decision.

'Sorry –' Saoirse began before propelling herself upwards, turning and smashing her fist into the intruder's face, feeling his eyeball crumple beneath her knuckles. He stumbled to the ground, groaning in pain as Saoirse quickly bundled her dressing gown around her. She hopped off the massage bed and roughly grabbed the trespasser's shoulder and violently turned him around. She jumped a foot in the air upon exposing the intruder's face.

'M-Mr W-Wayne?' She spluttered, her mind reeling from the ridiculous twist in events. He didn't answer, just carefully cupped his left eye socket which was quickly beginning to darken. A cut beneath his eyebrow spilled blood onto the back of his curled hand as he slowly stood up.

'Ms Nolan, could you please get me some ice from the mini fridge to stop the swelling.' He asked calmly as if this situation were completely normal. Saoirse was about to dash towards said mini-fridge when a bout of stubbornness blocked her path. She didn't owe Mr Wayne anything, in fact; he owed _her_ an explanation or two. She remained still, having absolutely no idea on how to direct this conversation. But if she didn't, this awkward silence might just ensue for all eternity. She swallowed her fear and straightened her shoulders.

'Mr Wayne?'

'Yes Ms Nolan?'

'You realise you've completely over-stepped your boundaries.' Saoirse's voice shook as she spoke, a fine concoction of rage and fear formulating her words. 'This… this is just… completely… totally…' It was pointless; she couldn't find the correct words to express her disgust at the invasion of her privacy. Instead of trying to explain to an infuriating nonchalant Mr Wayne how she felt, she decided action was the next best thing. She quickly went around the room throwing any of her personal belongings into a rucksack before storming out of the bedroom. Her heartbeat quickened when she heard his footsteps follow.

'Ms Nolan, at least let me explain –' He called. She whipped around, her red hair floating angrily around her head.

'Explain what exactly Mr Wayne? Frankly I think any explanation you have concerning your revolting behaviour could only lower my opinion of you which I grant you is quite the impossible task at the moment.' She said ferociously. She flung open the front door and proceeded down the front steps towards the gravelled drive.

'Ms Nolan, you're being ridiculous –' Mr Wayne grabbed her arm.

'Touch me again and I promise you I'll never tire of pummelling your face.' Saoirse hissed. Mr Wayne wisely let her go and watched as she strode onto the gravelled drive, her anger smothering any pain the sharp stones inflicted on her feet. Alfred appeared beside him wearing a look of concern upon recognising the disappearing form of Ms Nolan.

'So I take it you carried out your plan then sir?'

'I executed it to perfection; she even gave me a memento to remember her by.' Bruce said while showing Alfred his black eye.

'My sir, that is quite the shiner. But remind me why this plan was necessary? Did she not provide agreeable company?'

'She was becoming far too tolerant of Bruce Wayne; she needed to be reminded about my supposed playboy antics. Now she'll never trust me again.' He muttered. 'Alfred, start the Rolls Royce and offer her a lift home, make sure she accepts. She can't be allowed to walk home bare footed and clothed in a dressing gown.'

'Yes sir. Will there be anything else?' Bruce shook his head. 'Very well then.' Alfred left Bruce for the garage. He stared after the fiery haired girl, shocked that she'd been able to hit him. Granted she'd caught him off guard, yet to land a punch on Bruce Wayne was no small feat let alone a hit as powerful as the one she had inflicted. He was fairly sure at this rate; his eye would continue to swell until he wasn't able to see. Yet he didn't allow himself to return to the house and search for ice until the Rolls Royce pulled up smoothly beside Saoirse and her red haired frame reluctantly disappeared into the padded interior.


	17. Chapter 17

Saoirse curled up on the tiny sofa, her thoughts flinging themselves violently against her skull. She'd been coping with the events of the past few weeks by ignoring everything which had happened, bottling her feelings into a sealed jar which she'd buried deeply in her mind. Lisbeth's betrayal, giving up boxing, wooing the most horrific businessmen in all of Gotham and her drink being spiked with a roofie were all stored in this protective safe but Mr Wayne's breach of trust had broken her will to muddle onwards. The thought of his hands massaging her back's vulnerable skin stirred nausea in the pit of her stomach. She felt tainted by the experience, as if some piece of her innocence had permanently been misplaced. This was the result of socializing with a man as stained as Bruce Wayne, how naïve she had been to remain beneath the same roof as him! She tried to smother the memory but the sealed jar could not cope with any more suffocated feelings. It burst open, spilling forth all of her unvoiced fears, worries, and anger. The hungry tornado decimated her mind, obliterating all rational thought and logic till raw emotion remained. The issue of her drink being spiked rose to the surface, demanding to be examined. Saoirse had deliberately avoided this topic but with her mind swimming in chaos, she had no time to hide before her imagination seized the troublesome thought and began producing terrifying theories. The first concerned Mr Wayne and how convenient it had been for her to fall unconscious in a hotel where all the rooms were booked, the unlikely situation demanding him to transport her to his home. The last gasp of Saoirse's logic argued regardless of how foul Mr Wayne's intentions had been; they did not sink to spiking her champagne with a powerful sedative. Her imagination left Mr Wayne alone and began drawing on other sources for inspiration. The reasons presented were frightening and absurd, yet regardless of her weak dismissals, she realised each fear-induced idea held something in common: the person wanting to drug her, excluding Mr Wayne, had been someone from her past.

Sheer terror, complete and harrowing possessed Saoirse. No. There could be no possibility that _they_ had found her, she had hidden herself far too cunningly to be discovered. Even Mr Fox had realised nothing suspicious when he conducted a detailed background check of her so complete was her disguise. Yet every plan had its downfall, its flaw. What if by some horrible course of events, they _had_ found her? The bathroom attendant could have easily been their spy, employed to observe the people attending the party with further orders to drug Saoirse after correctly identifying her. As thoughts continued to frantically circle in her head, Saoirse couldn't hide from the obvious conclusion: it had been no accident, no co-incidence; the explanation was clear and all the more frightening because of it. They had drugged her. The mere thought of them successfully locating her produced ice in her veins; death would be a wiser choice than sharing an audience with them. If she didn't act quickly, they would find her and carry out the punishment owed to her ever since she'd betrayed them.

She barely made it to the bathroom as she desperately puked her guts into the toilet. Saoirse leant weakly against the bathtub, her nausea continuing to build, so profound was her fear. Thrice more she was physically sick before collapsing from fear and exhaustion onto the freezing tiled floor. Her thoughts frantically escalated with no hope of being calmed. As her head pounded painfully, Saoirse realised she'd lost control. She was completely at the mercy of her fears and held no power over the war zone which had once been her calm and peaceful mind. This was the result of bottling her feelings; a terribly beautiful implosion of emotions.

She remained there for hours, too petrified and weak to move.

* * *

'Ms Nolan, I was wondering if Mr Fox was around?' Saoirse gritted her teeth upon recognising the silky voice; she hadn't seen Mr Wayne since her fist had exchanged pleasantries with his eye socket.

'He's in his office.' She replied shortly, adrenaline pumping in her veins. Turning around was out of the question, she wouldn't be able to resist hitting him again such was her violent intentions. Bruce Wayne stared at her un-turning back, satisfied with the result of his back-massaging plan but slightly saddened at the loss of a possible friendship. He left Ms Nolan and entered Mr Fox's office, his gaze darkening upon recognising his visitor.

'How can I help you Mr Wayne?' He asked in a guarded voice. He'd been holding him at arms-length ever since Ms Nolan's drink had been spiked with cerulean.

'I just thought I should let you know that after a few conversations, I managed to gain some information about your favourite shade of blue.' Mr Fox took off his glasses and observed him keenly.

'What sort of information? I'm aware this pigment is very rare…'

'Well according to a top supplier, only one business have access to it.'

'Exclusivity? That'll drive prices up by a mile. What sort of business is handling the transactions?'

'A family business, so as can be expected, I've only been receiving dribs and drabs of information.'

'But Mr Wayne, I believe most family businesses contain a rat these days… How is it that the lake of knowledge is alleged to be dry?'

'That's the most important part; this business is new in town.'

'Contesting new territories regardless of what's happened to their competition?'

'It is precisely due to the lack of competition that they have decided to claim the vacant territories.'

'I hope their stay won't be permanent Mr Wayne.'

'I've made some arrangements to make sure that doesn't happen. But back to your favourite pigment, it'll be a few weeks before selling on the street ensues yet without a kick to satisfy the local clientele, it doesn't take an oracle to predict the lack of sales.'

'They'll be selling to a very select audience then.'

'Most likely to others in the same business which would be very bad for my own personal interests. So I need your help in finding the source.'

'Where it's stashed or where it's created Mr Wayne?'

'Both. How long will it take?'

'Running time for a project taking in the entire breadth of Gotham will take at least a week.'

'Well find a way to speed it up; I need to nip this thing in the bud before they start selling to the local consumers.'

'I understand Mr Wayne; I'll let you know when it's ready.'

'I appreciate it. Before I go I just have one other query.'

'Yes sir?'

'Saoirse Nolan, how has she been during the past week?'

'A little fragile but I suppose that's only to be expected. However, she hasn't left the Applied Science Wing for days; she frequents the Pod most nights. If it provides her with a sense of security I suppose she should be allowed her privacy... I heard about what happened at Wayne mansion sir.'

'Do you have an opinion on the matter?' Mr Wayne asked dangerously.

'I just hope you know what you're doing Mr Wayne.'

'I always know what I'm doing Mr Fox, that's the reason I've become so feared and successful.'

'I imagine it has contributed handsomely to your accomplishments. Well good day to you Mr Wayne.'

'And to you Mr Fox.' Bruce left the brilliant engineer behind and found Ms Nolan no longer alone. He smiled briefly upon recognising her companion.

'Lucius Fox Jr, is that you?' He called, distracting the dark youth who was clearly enamoured with Ms Nolan. Lucius reluctantly tore his gaze from the redhead and forced a smile for his benefit.

'Bruce Wayne, it has been awhile. How goes business?'

'Business is a-booming. I've seen you've already met one of our best and brightest.'

'It's so nice to finally put a face to a name, my dad talks about you all the time.' He added with a shy smile. Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes knowing the sudden movement would irritate his bruised socket. 'My, my, Bruce, that's quite the shiner you have there, you appear to have been in a brawl! I hope the other guy looks worse…'

'As you can see from the culprit, I didn't lay a finger on her.' Bruce responded nodding towards Ms Nolan. Her cheeks didn't colour, her stance didn't change; cold indifference was all that complimented her figure. Bruce had underestimated how deep her fury resided.

'Mr Wayne, it's rude to toy with people –' He began but Ms Nolan cut him off.

'Mr Wayne speaks the truth Lucius; I presented him with that black eye. And he knows if I were in the same situation again, I wouldn't change my actions.' She still refused to look at him, her words clipped in a cold and angry tone. Lucius fidgeted, knowing he was caught in the unfortunate no-man's land separating Mr Wayne and Ms Nolan. He was completely out of his comfort zone.

'Lucius, I believe your father is expecting you.' Bruce suggested, breaking the harsh silence. Lucius gratefully took the opportunity to leave and soon found the safety of his father's office. Bruce observed Ms Nolan carefully, wondering what angry thoughts were knocking inside her skull. He didn't manage to find out as she picked up a file and strode into the depths of the department, obviously not wanting him to follow.

Saoirse collapsed some five minutes later deep in the vehicle block. She'd clambered into the back seat of a truck which was apparently bomb-proofed and allowed her emotions to wash over her. Ever since her small yet nonetheless very real nervous breakdown, her emotions hadn't quite returned to their normal levels. Her paranoia had reduced her to never leaving the Applied Science Wing and she had spent her free time trying to formulate an escape plan from Gotham City. It would have to be believable and conceal her from prying eyes for good. After many hours of thought she'd finally put together a decent plan, one which she knew would work as long as some variables bent in her favour. She remained in the truck for the next ten minutes, her heart calming down and her emotions retreating into the safety of her heart's chambers; completely bruised and battered.

There was no other option; she had to leave Gotham City for good.


	18. Chapter 18

It was time. Tonight was when her meticulous planning would finally come to fruition, where she would bid the corrupt city of Gotham a fond adieu and never set foot in the city ever again. She hated the thought of leaving; here she held her ideal job, with a creative freedom which could only be dreamt of. Arguably ever since she'd accepted the job, her world had deteriorated from healthy relationships and hobbies to isolation and loneliness. However, this wasn't a world she was unfamiliar with… in fact she enjoyed the level of independence she commanded. Eradicating the time consuming art of socializing had inspired a feeling of freedom, not terror. It also made leaving Gotham City that much easier, apart from her boss Mr Fox, she genuinely had no-one left to say goodbye to. She was surprised she didn't feel saddened by this stark statistic.

Saoirse glanced at her watch, understanding she had only three hours remaining in the Applied Science Wing before she would leave it forever. She sat cross legged inside the Pod which had become her make-shift house since she'd had her "episode" in her own apartment. No other panic attacks had victimized her since. Everything was set, ready to go. The morning after her minor breakdown, she'd packed a suitcase filled with important possessions such as a passport, credit cards, clothes, money and anything else of sentimental value. The suitcase sat patiently at the foot of the foam bed, waiting to be utilised in a few hours' time. She would be catching a flight at 9pm this evening from Gotham National Airport yet when booking the flight, she was suddenly aware _they _might be keeping track of her credit cards in order to see if she would be traveling anywhere. So thinking outside of the box, Saoirse had booked over five flights going to completely different destinations, she didn't care about the waste of money. Her 1% ownership of the security software she had created provided more than enough money to cover her escape plan and would provide a comfortable cushion to begin her next life, not in another state but in a different continent altogether...

'Ms Nolan?' Saoirse nearly fell off her chair, so startled was she by the appearance of Mr Fox.

'Y-Yes sir?' She managed to splutter.

'Would you mind fetching me my favourite drink, you know the one with the fancy name which I always mispronounce…'

'Frappuccino?'

'That's the one!'

'Sure there's a Starbucks on the floor above us, I could just grab you one from there…?'

'No, I always go to this beautiful Italian café a few blocks away from Wayne Tower, it overlooks the park and holds the friendliest staff I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.'

'Are you sure one of the cafes in Wayne Tower won't suffice?' Saoirse asked incredulously, trying her hardest to make sure she didn't have to leave the wing until she had to catch her flight.

'I may be getting on in my years but don't think I haven't noticed you haven't left this wing over the past week. The fresh air will do you good.'

'Are you uncomfortable with the hours I work Mr Fox?'

'A young bird should not willingly reside in its cage Ms Nolan. You should be out exploring the world, using your wings while they're still strong enough to support you.'

'I'm just really engrossed in my new project Mr Fox.'

'Now Saoirse –' She grimaced at hearing her first name, knowing he'd become serious '– you know better than to take me for a fool. Is there something you're not telling me which would explain your reluctance to leave Wayne Tower?'

Saoirse wobbled for a moment, wanting desperately to come clean and tell Mr Fox everything. She craved his advice about her situation as she was almost certain he would think of a solution to her current predicament which didn't involve leaving Gotham. Yet she knew she was making the correct decision as she shook her head, she couldn't have Mr Fox become involved in this mess; she respected him too much for that.

'No sir. I'll go and get your Frappuccino now.' Saoirse said while turning and exiting the Pod. She took some money from the petty cash drawer and ignored the worried stare of her boss as she left the wing. Upon exiting Wayne Tower, Saoirse had the most curious sensation of coming into contact with sunlight after going a solid week without it. The feeling of heat from a natural instead of man-made source was relaxing and as she walked the streets of Gotham, she felt calm for the first time in days. She ignored her car, knowing she would only use it as transportation to the airport; the train would do for this errand. She alighted at the correct platform and soon was being whisked towards Gotham's national park, a beautiful green area in the middle of the city where wildlife still had a chance to flourish against the backdrop of the tainted city. Twenty minutes later she was queuing in the busy café, trying to remember Mr Fox's exact order when the man standing in front of her turned around. Saoirse's blood curdled slightly when she recognised the familiar face. His forehead creased when their eyes locked. Saoirse knew it was too late to pretend she hadn't seen him.

'Evening Lieutenant Briggs.' Saoirse said, shifting her feet uncomfortably.

'Saoirse Nolan, the driver of the bat-mobile or is it the tumbler? I can't remember which name is more popular with the people of Gotham these days...' He replied with a cold sneer. Saoirse painfully swallowed, knowing the lieutenant's pride was still bruised from Commissioner Gordon dismissing his investigation of her.

'So… how's Gotham's crime rate?' Saoirse asked, trying to ignore the lieutenant's icy glare.

'Not bad, still trying to figure out which coward is hiding beneath Batman's mask.'

'Is that really the police's main priority?' Saoirse found herself blurting out before she could stop herself.

'Stopping the violent actions of a masked criminal shouldn't be a priority of Gotham's police department?' Briggs asked dangerously. Saoirse remained wise and decided to forego a reply, preferring to ignore the lieutenant's ludicrous statement. The silence continued to spread and Saoirse found refuge from the uncomfortable quiet in checking her phone. She glanced up to find much to her amazement that the Lieutenant was performing the same task. Thankfully as he stowed away his phone, the queue moved upwards and the Lieutenant placed his order, soon leaving his place in the queue. Saoirse breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to be away from the Lieutenant's overbearing presence. Her order was whipped up in double quick time so she didn't have to wait awkwardly beside the angry Briggs. With an ice-cold Frappuccino in her hand, she turned and bid the Lieutenant an awkward goodbye.

'Enjoy your career at Wayne Tower.' He responded. Saoirse could only marvel at his retention of information, the interview he'd conducted with her had been months ago yet he still remembered her place of work. Shaking off the creepy feeling, she left the Italian café and headed for the nearest train station.

Five minutes later, she boarded a train and allowed it to take her back towards Wayne Tower, regarding the cold coffee in her hand as a farewell present of sorts for Mr Fox. She'd even remembered to get chocolate sprinkles on the towering mound of whipped cream. The carriage she occupied was nearly empty; the only other occupant being a large, middle-aged woman with wrinkles scarring her pale face. Saoirse drummed her fingers on the windowsill, ignoring the crude images of male genitals decorating the train's walls. Two stops in, the lady left the carriage leaving Saoirse completely alone. It wasn't until she was almost at Wayne Tower's stop, did her carriage finally gain some occupants. She took no notice of the two men and woman who stepped onto the train, and lounged idly beside the closing doors. As the train began to move, the party instantly sprang into action. And by action, each one of them leapt towards Saoirse and pulled guns from their jeans or as was in the case of the lady, her elaborate boot.

'Hands in the air!' The surliest one snapped in a nasal voice. Saoirse froze, wondering if this was a random mugging or something worse entirely. With only one way to find out, she placed the Frappuccino on the floor and slowly raised her arms.

'Betty, check her purse for I.D!' The same oaf snapped. Saoirse's heart sank; she knew if this was an ordinary mugging, they wouldn't care for the name of who they were robbing. Betty sidled forward and violently wrenched Saoirse's bag from her grasp and clumsily fumbled for something with an I.D. Her hand emerged clutching Saoirse's Wayne Enterprise badge triumphantly. She sneered while reading her name aloud much to the joy of her new captors.

'Saoirse Nolan, oh boy, oh boy, we've hit the jackpot!' Betty hollered much to the excitement of the weather-beaten men. 'I wouldn't be you for all the money and youth in the world!' Betty snorted while waving her gun in an alarming manner. She calmed herself and strode towards Saoirse, resting the barrel of the small pistol between her eyes. 'There's been many eyes on you, waiting for you to leave that safety nest called Wayne Tower. And the first moment you're alone, BOOM! We have you gift wrapped to convey to our boss. But I suppose you already know that… it would explain your cowardly behaviour from the past week.' Saoirse felt remarkably calm. The suspense which had been leading up to this moment, the actual moment of kidnapping had triggered fears of the unknown but now that it was in the process of happening, she felt no fear. What was there to be afraid of?

'Would you mind pointing that thing somewhere else please? You strike me as someone who's trigger happy and might accidently kill me.'

'What makes you think you're not wanted dead?'

'Because I know this system better than you could ever hope to. You shoot me now before I appear before the boss, your life won't be worth living.' Saoirse watched with satisfaction as the seeds of doubt were sown and began to bloom in Betty's heavily lined eyes. The doubt turned to fury as she clicked the safety mechanism back on and dropped the gun from Saoirse's forehead.

'Right sweetie, now here's what's going to happen. We're going to get off at the next stop and Larry here will have his gun resting against your shoulder blade. You try anything to get away from us, he won't hesitate to fire. You may be wanted alive, but the boss was hazy on how pristine the delivery had to be. Are we clear?'

'Crystal.' Saoirse responded while stooping to pick up the Frappuccino. She ignored the safety click being removed from three guns and casually took a sip from the iced beverage. There was no point in wasting a good drink when it was clear it wouldn't make it to its intended owner. She innocently peered up at her three kidnappers who hesitantly lowered their weapons. They were definitely amateurs but until the guns left their hands, they still remained in power. 'What happens after we leave the station?' Saoirse asked as if her being kidnapped were the most natural thing in the world.

'We get into a car, and then we drive you to the boss.' Betty snapped.

'Right… I just have one more question.'

'It better be your last, I'm getting tired of your chattering and Larry here hasn't beaten anyone up today. I'd say his fists are itching for some flesh to smash. Ain't that right Larry?'

'S'right.' Larry grumbled.

'If you were keeping careful tabs on me, why didn't you grab me on my way out from Wayne Tower? Why wait until I made the return trip? It just seems a little risky to wait that long…'

'Well, we were just biding our time –' Betty began.

'And we got the message you was coming.' Larry interjected. Betty turned an ugly shade of puce and hit him as hard as she could.

'A message… from who?' Saoirse asked curiously.

'A message from no-one.' Betty snapped as Larry cradled his thoroughly bruised arm. Saoirse frowned for a moment before the mysterious contact quickly revealed itself to her. She couldn't believe it… how could he betray her in this manner? She had never done anything to him which deserved the consequences she was about to face…

'Wow… I never realised Lieutenant Briggs was bent.' Saoirse said in a low voice, the Frappuccino lying forgotten in her hand.

'See? She knew anyway.' Whimpered Larry as Betty threw him the mother of all dirty looks.

'For once in your idiotic life could you have just kept your goddamn mouth shut?' She roared, again waving her gun dangerously. Larry cringed and backed away from her ferocious disposition.

The train began to slow and Saoirse knew this was their stop. Sure enough, she felt a gun pressing firmly against her shoulder blade as she was walked out of the carriage, her bag left abandoned on a seat along with the remnants of Mr Fox's Frappuccino. The stairs were quickly descended and all Saoirse could think of was how dumb the two police officers patrolling the area were for failing to notice the hostage situation which passed directly under their noses. She wasn't even annoyed by their abysmal detective skills; her brain was trying to figure out how they had graduated from Gotham's strict Police Academy. A rich parent had probably bribed them through the system…

A normal black car loomed in the distance and a second later she was unceremoniously dumped in the passenger seat. Betty started up the car while two guns pointed at Saoirse from the back seat. Betty glanced over at her valuable passenger and heaved a sigh of relief.

'I hope you've a good explanation for the Boss.' She said as the engine sputtered to life. The car jetted off with unexpected speed into the labyrinth of streets towards the dodgier side of Gotham City. One thing Saoirse knew about her future was that her death was imminent. Whether it would be given mercifully or achieved by horrendous hours of torture would be decided by the boss.


	19. Chapter 19

After the initial ten minutes, Saoirse was forced into a pair of handcuffs, duct tape was slapped onto her mouth and a blindfold was tightly secured over her eyes. The car trundled onwards for what seemed to be hours without a word passing between the sombre passengers leaving Saoirse to be entertained by the presentation of random thoughts. For example; she was sitting in the front seat of a car which lacked tinted windows and she currently commanded the appearance of a hostage... This must look pretty strange to any pedestrians or other cars. Yet perhaps this part of Gotham was _so _dodgy that even if someone realised what was going on, they would keep their head down and ignore the situation.

Saoirse felt the car halt and heard the sound of lashing rain after the car doors opened. A thrill of fear bolted down her spine as she was ungraciously yanked out of the car and walked towards a mysterious destination. The rain had her soaked in seconds sending unnecessary chills down her spine. She heard Betty cursing the weather as an unoiled door grumbled open, granting access to an interior smelling of abandonment. Judging by the echo of Betty's shoes, she was in a large open space… perhaps a warehouse? She was harshly dumped into a wooden chair and her blindfold was ripped from her eyes. She blinked rapidly, allowing her pupils to dilate and perceive her dim surroundings. A light flicked on in front of her revealing the shadowed outline of a tall, well-built man. Saoirse didn't need to distinguish his features to identify him; she'd known him pretty much all her life. He stepped closer to her, his face finally catching the light.

'Saoirse Nolan... we've been looking for you for quite some time. I hope you still remember my name?' He asked, a sinister shadow stalking his words. For the past eight years Saoirse had been running from this confrontation but as she stared into the cunning eyes of her captor, she knew this situation had always been inevitable. 'Take off the duct tape.' He muttered, acknowledging her kidnappers for the first time. Saoirse braced herself for the upcoming sting of pain but was surprised when Betty slowly removed the tape instead of violently ripping it off. She licked her lips a few times before locking gazes with the familiar boss. 'You three, you've provided a valuable service to the family, you will not leave empty handed. Here –' He threw a few wads of money at Saoirse's kidnappers. 'It's freshly laundered. Enjoy. Now, leave us in peace.' The trio greedily tucked the money into their pockets and hurried out of the warehouse, Betty's boots finally silenced after the door whined shut.

'Jimmy Spillane, it seems you've been promoted since we last met. Congratulations.' Saoirse responded, trying to retain her sarcasm.

'It wasn't a permanent post; I was only an act-in boss.'

'Yes but you're going to be an act-in boss for at least another twenty years.' Saoirse said with a confident smile.

'That was the original plan. However… circumstances change.' James Spillane continued.

'Can I ask you a question Jimmy?' Saoirse started, feeling remarkably bold.

'Ask away.'

'Why are you still searching for me? My quarrel isn't with you Jimmy, it's with Michael Conlon and he's been behind bars ever since I left.' She began.

'In order to answer your question properly, I'll have to fill you in on a few key events which occurred in your absence. As I'm sure you remember, Michael Conlon _did _take a trip to the joint after you left however, he was offered a deal by the police to rat me, the current boss, out. Despite the trying circumstances he was under, Micky remained true to the family policy of loyalty and refused the deal. As you can imagine, I remain much obliged to Micky for his loyalty so when he asked me to do him a favour, I was in no position to refuse. When he asked me to find you, I promised him I would. However you proved a tricky leaf to chase, so cunning were those bastard cops who helped to conceal you. Yet I remained patient and years later after chasing empty clues, I heard something on the news providing a description of a Veronica Byrne which matched yours oh-so-perfectly. I made my way down from Manhattan to this rotten city and had a little chat with someone you may be familiar with.'

'Lieutenant Briggs.' She responded coldly.

'The very man. And he told me your name wasn't Veronica Byrne but as you had confessed in the interview, it was Saoirse Nolan. And finally I had it: the name which had cloaked you from my gaze for the past eight years. Then it was only a matter of watching and waiting for the right moment to bring you in.'

'I was right… you were responsible for the roofie in my drink at the red carpet event.' She said a little unsteadily.

'You're half correct, I was responsible for the turn in events which happened but you received a drug far more sophisticated than the date/rape drug.'

'W-What?' She spluttered.

'In hindsight perhaps the drug you suggested would have provided cleaner results yet I was very keen to see what reaction you would have to the family's newest drug. It's called Cerulean and dissolves perfectly in alcohol.'

'The bathroom attendant…'

'Exactly. She handed you a glass of champagne with a dose of this blue powder and poof! You became more vulnerable than ever.'

'But it didn't work. You didn't manage to take me that night.' She muttered with a grim smile.

'Your survival instincts were to be applauded that evening, what you managed to achieve while under the influence of this potent drug is something I admire greatly.'

'What are you talking about? I collapsed a minute later on the first floor balcony.'

'Ah yes, the memory loss… perhaps you weren't correctly informed of the evening's events? Here, let me restore your memory...' He stepped closer and drew forward a chair, a sweet perfume of cigars and whiskey greeting her nostrils. 'After you'd consumed the spiked champagne, you began to hallucinate most profoundly, horrible images I imagine, but consider our surprise when you approached a concealed door at this party and disappeared inside while beneath the influence of this toxin? Some of my people followed you quickly but they were not fast enough. They stalked you through a door lined passage, eventually clambering up a spiral staircase just in time to see you enter a high security room, the door closing automatically as you fainted inside the chamber. Though they tried many times, they could not open the door and had to make themselves scarce as Bruce Wayne himself approached. My spies couldn't touch the Prince of Gotham so they waited as he opened the door and found you unconscious inside. He was apparently quite startled by your presence but wasted no time in carrying your unconscious form from the room much in the manner we had planned and whisked you back to what is most probably the safest house in Gotham: Wayne Mansion. ' Her gaze drooped, her mouth slightly open. She had no recollection of the events Jimmy had explained but could find no reason for him to fabricate the truth. She had been spiked with an experimental drug and had somehow managed to gain access to the secret room Mr Wayne had entered earlier on the night of the party. Beautiful curiosity flashed for a moment, desperate to understand what Mr Wayne had concealed in that room which deserved all of this secrecy. Yet the flame slowly died as she realised it was irrelevant to her current predicament.

'Where we failed in that incident was due to our arrogance. We had underestimated you. As you can see from our current situation, I made sure we made no further mistakes. I placed a bounty on your head for your capture, alive of course, and the petty criminals of Gotham just about put the ones at our disposal in Manhattan to shame. Yet you remained hidden in Wayne Tower, another incredibly safe location which could not be infiltrated by us. However, you had to leave at some point and when you did… they delivered you like a pizza.'

'I was leaving tonight.'

'I'm aware, you'd booked an impressive amount of flights this morning which led me to believe you knew of our watchful gaze. But it matters not now… You're here. You changed your name sure, a name your family had painstakingly passed onto you yet despite your disrespectful actions, I finally have you.' Jimmy Spillane continued.

'I'm not the person I was eight years ago Mr Spillane.' She said through gritted teeth.

'I have no doubt you've changed, but to Michael Conlon,you'll always be the same person. In fact, he's been waiting patiently to have a chat with you himself.' James nodded to his left as a second silhouette appeared from the darkness. Saoirse's heart stopped beating for a split second, so potent was her fear. Every fibre in her being ached to run, to flee the man who was slowly approaching, his face slightly more wrinkled than before but still horrendously familiar. He took off his hat, placed it carefully on the table and strolled towards her. He pulled up a chair and sat down slowly, lighting a cigar in the process.

'Jimmy here is right, you'll never be this Saoirse Nolan persona which you've decided to adopt… regardless of what's happened between us, you'll always be my little Siobhan Conlon.' Saoirse flinched as her father voiced her true name. Everything she'd done to try and distance herself from him seemed irrelevant now. She felt her alter ego; Saoirse Nolan melting away, revealing the vulnerable Siobhan Conlon who had grown up surrounded by criminals, with a mob boss in place of a father. She clung desperately to the persona she'd painstakingly created, knowing if she lost Saoirse; the ordeal ahead would be one she would not outlast. 'Look at her Jimmy, how beautiful she grew up to be! Red hair like her mother's, captivating all the boys I bet.'

'I'd bet too Micky.'

'Why aren't you in jail?' She asked in a quiet yet surprisingly strong voice.

'My conviction was screwed up by a tough-guy Police officer whose evidence was not obtained in the correct manner and so was scrapped from my case. Two years in the joint later, my trial is appealed and I'm free to conduct business at my leisure.'

'My testimony wasn't enough to keep you behind bars?'

'Ah I'm glad you hadn't forgotten about that Siobhan.'

'Don't call me that.'

'You were christened Siobhan in the presence of God in a Catholic church; it's not something you can cast off like an unwanted piece of clothing.' Her father didn't raise his voice, yet the menace shadowing each word was enough to trigger goose-bumps. 'Now back to a more important matter, your testimony which you made in open court in front of my family both business and blood. The humiliation of having a loved one testify against you with all those smug looking cops sitting patiently in the stands was a torture I never thought I'd have to face, so loyal I thought my family to be. The damning words you burnt into me without showing the slightest bit of mercy after everything I'd done for you, my only daughter; my favourite! And then to complete the betrayal, you take off into some witness protection scheme as if the horsemen of the apocalypse were chasing you!'

'You killed three innocent people in our basement, how was I supposed to keep quiet about that?!' She roared, her voice echoing around the deserted warehouse.

'Those were _not _innocent people, they'd been trying to pull the wool over your dad's eyes and when things turned pear-shaped, they began threatening my family. I was going to take care of it in my own way; you were _not _supposed to see it happen. Did you think I wanted to make you an accessory to murder? Will did you?!'

'Those weren't the first people you killed Michael.'

'What is this, some good-for-nothing talk show? I'm your father; your _family _don't call me by my Christian name_. _Show some respect.'

'You really believe I could _ever _call you father after what you've done?' Michael; or Micky as was his nickname, squeezed the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb and took a few deep breaths.

'Young lady, you better watch your mouth.' He said in a dangerously quiet voice.

'Or what?' She asked while bitterly laughing. Her father rose from his chair and rushed at her, his fingers clamping in her hair as he painfully wrenched her head back.

'You show some respect or I'll extinguish my cigar… right there.' He said softly, touching the spot between her eyes. She glared at him, refusing to yelp as his grip continued to tighten in her hair. Tears blistered at the corners of her eyes and she furiously blinked them away, needing to demonstrate her lack of fear. The staring contest continued for a few seconds before Micky abruptly let go of her hair and sat down heavily. 'Jimmy, give us something to drink would you?' He asked while finishing his cigar. Jimmy produced a hip flask and handed it to his boss. Micky smacked his lips after taking a generous gulp, smirking as the liquid slipped down his throat. 'Jack Daniels… always the finest. Thanking you kindly Jimmy.' He said while returning the flask. He extinguished his cigar and observed the defiant girl sitting in front of him.

'I know you've been looking for me the past eight years. So what punishment have you created which will absolve me of my betrayal? Or is my traitorous action so immense that only one form of punishment can hope to absolve me?' She asked, completely unnerved when her father began to laugh.

'Jimmy, she thinks we're going to "whack" her.' He said, making the quotation marks with his fingers.

'You aren't?' She asked, looking between the two guffawing men in confusion.

'Siobhan, my daughter… you testified after you'd witnessed a traumatising event, you were only sixteen and didn't know what you were doing. Sure lass, you didn't consult a single member of the family before going down to the cops, no-one was there to calm you down until it was too late.' She stared at her father incredulously, not believing a word which had just left his potty mouth.

'What could possibly motivate you to hunt your own daughter if it wasn't for revenge?' She spat.

'A friendly cop informed us that you'd decided to enter into this witness protection scheme. Your mother was distraught when she heard–' She couldn't retain her snort. '–And I was devastated that I was going to lose my only daughter, my pride and my joy. So as my time in the joint seemed inevitable, I instructed Jimmy here to find you and to bring you home. And like the best family, he remained true to the task and produced the goods.' He patted Jimmy's arm appreciatively.

'You… you want me to come home?' She whispered.

'Yes. I want you to come home Siobhan, back to your mother, back to me, back to where you belong.' Her mouth fell open, so unexpected was this proposal. 'Yet you don't have to leave Gotham, we've been given the grand tour of the city and have been pleasantly surprised at the lack of local competition. So we thought we might invest some of our own capitol from Manhattan in Gotham; expand our territories. Buy a house in the wealthier side and find a new market for this cerulean powder. You could even keep your current job.' Nausea reared its ugly head in the pit of her stomach. She had grossly underestimated her father's unconditional love; he was choosing to overlook her blatant betrayal as the uncertain action carried out by a traumatised teen. However, this was not the case. Growing up in a family whose income relied on crime had been torturous for her teenage self due to her strong sense of morality. The decision she had made to testify against her father hadn't been one made in the delirium of trauma and emotion. Despite her age, the decision had been a clinical one. Her father had killed three people in cold blood and more besides; he needed to be brought to justice.

And now the same violent beast who should be behind bars was proposing to enter her life once more. Torture and death was a fate far more tempting than this punishment. Living with or near this man would be more damaging than any physical pain, more fatal than a gunshot to the head. He would feast on her soul, trap her in his grimy little world, control her every action as to him; women were possessions, not living things which commanded free will. She wouldn't go back to that existence; death would be liberation compared with his suggestion.

'You really believe that after everything you've put me through that I would return home? I'm no prodigal son Michael. What you're offering me isn't a place of sanctuary; all you are suggesting is that I come back to the very same hell I grew up with! I won't subject myself to it again! I won't do it!'

'Siobhan Conlon, if I have to _drag _you back to your family, don't think your father wouldn't hesitate –'

'Don't you _dare _call yourself my father. I have no father as no man who could be as manipulative and cruel as you have been to me can claim that position in my life.'

'Siobhan –'

'I'm not afraid of you Michael, what could you possibly offer which I have to fear? Beat me? Drug me? Eventually kill me? I would take all of those fates together instead ofallowing your poisonous influence back in my life.' Micky's composure broke and he backhanded his daughter smartly across the face. Her head jarred suddenly to the left, the apple of her cheek burning from the cruel caress. A deafening silence surrounded the curious trio, Micky and Jimmy with folded arms and their rebellious captor sitting erect and defiant in her chair, eyes smarting with pain. After a moment Micky turned and nodded towards Jimmy, signalling him to begin something.

'Siobhan, do you know where we are?' Jimmy asked; his voice stark against the silent backdrop.

'No Jimmy, I don't.' She muttered, trying with all her might to keep her voice steady.

'Well, this is a deserted warehouse as I'm sure you've recognised but it used to be a place where circus animals were stored. As you can see from various examples, they left a few cages behind.' Her blurred vision stopped her from seeing the described cages yet she didn't doubt Jimmy's words. 'Due to your… _disrespectful _actions, Micky thinks it'll be a good idea for you to remember some of your manners.' As one, the two men rose and roughly hoisted her from the old chair. Her vision cleared and she was dragged towards a nearby cage which looked as if it had housed a tiger judging from the faded illustration. A section of the cage squealed open and she was dumped inside. Her head was still reeling from Micky's heavy backhand but she struggled to her feet, pressing her face against the iron bars.

'Are you going to keep me in here forever?' She managed to gasp.

'Until you learn some manners.' Jimmy repeated. Her father didn't even look at her; he was too busy massaging his right hand. She watched helplessly as the two men walked away, turning off the lights on their way out, leaving her in semi-darkness. The handcuffs were chafing against her wrists and she felt emotionally battered. Collapsing onto the hard ground and peering out through the thick bars provided a new appreciation of the life of a caged animal. She found herself feeling profoundly sorry for all creatures locked away in zoos around the world who knew nothing but these cramped spaces.

After taking a few deep breaths and ignoring other meandering thoughts, she assessed her current situation: most importantly she was still alive; she hadn't been tortured but instead had been offered a horrifying proposition and accepting said proposition was out of the question. So the logical conclusion to draw from this situation was to make a quick escape. And seeing as she had some time to think, devising a plan for a quick and permanent exit was exactly what she set about creating.

'My name is Saoirse Nolan and I am a free woman. My name is Saoirse Nolan and I am a free woman. My name is Saoirse Nolan and I am a free woman.' This was the phrase she muttered to herself as she curled up inside the tiger's cage, still damp from outside's downpour, all thoughts bent towards escaping her father and his criminal lifestyle for good.


	20. Chapter 20

Saoirse had tried over and over to escape her current situation yet all she'd proven was the remarkable strength of the iron bars surrounding her cage. She peered through the metal poles and once again surveyed the deserted warehouse. The walls were made of greying bricks and they soared up towards a ceiling which itself was lost in shadow. Semi-circular windows spiked the walls at irregular intervals, the cheap glass grimy with mould providing a natural shield against curious eyes. Poison ivy crept in through a few shattered panes while small trees knocked their leafy arms against the glass in a manner which can only be described as menacing. Daylight forced its way through the filthy windows in a half-hearted manner, illuminating the decidedly gloomy interior. The grey of the walls was interrupted by the shockingly bright colours of some vandal's graffiti. Inside the dull interior, the vibrant shapes were the only interesting things to investigate, some of the pieces looking quite fresh. This granted Saoirse a morsel of hope, if a couple ruffians entered the warehouse and discovered her there; she could entreat them to help her. Regardless of what character they commanded, they would be nowhere near as dangerous as the people who'd locked her up in the first place.

Her lack of creative problem solving frustrated her almost as much as her current predicament. The bars were too thick and close together for her to squeeze out of, there was no way to trick the door into opening as it was controlled by a fingerprint scanner and apart from dust, all the materials she had at her disposal were the handcuffs chafing against her wrists. She stood up and began to pace the interior of her cage, following the footsteps she'd carved into the dust from hours of walking. In the cage she could walk for ten paces before having to turn around and approach the opposite side again. Desperation gripped her for a moment and she grabbed the bars, wet her lips and let loose the most piercing, blood curdling scream of her life. If anyone had heard the yowl (which they didn't) they would think an animal to be mortally wounded. The voice echoed back imaginary words of comfort for her current situation, the sound waves bouncing off the warehouse's walls, refusing to die completely. Saoirse filled her lungs with air once more, preparing to let out a scream more deadly than its predecessor.

'No-one can hear you.' A male voice said. The scream was mangled with surprise in Saoirse's throat and instead of the glass shattering shriek, a muffled yelp ensued.

'Who are you?' Saoirse asked; ignoring the sneaking suspicion she was hearing imaginary voices.

'You really think they'd leave you alone in this abandoned warehouse?' The voice continued. Saoirse frowned, cocking her head to the side as she tried to remember the vaguely familiar voice. 'I'm insulted; you remember my father but you don't remember me?' He continued. Saoirse failed to stifle her groan of disappointment upon recognising the speaker… Jimmy Junior, Jimmy Spillane's eldest son. He'd been her best friend up until her dad's trial had come into the picture.

'Jimmy Junior?' She whispered in a hoarse voice.

'The very same, Siobhan.' He said as he stepped out of the surrounding gloom, tipping an imaginary hat. He'd grown a good foot since she'd last laid eyes on him and as his mother had predicted, had grown up to be very handsome. His usual curly brown hair had been severely cut and supported a neat parting. The dark eyes were still framed by long lashes coupled with a poker straight nose yet the mouth remained unsmiling, a stark contrast to the grinning teen she used to know. He was a year and a half her senior and had constantly made jokes about her becoming his gun moll; his only woman; after he made it as a big gangster.

'I thought you swore never to follow your dad. When did the family business substitute for law school?' Saoirse began quietly.

'Plans change. You were supposed to graduate high school and follow me to college. That idea fell apart when you hared out of Manhattan as if you were a fugitive.'

'I had to leave. You didn't have to destroy your future and turn into _this_. '

'Your absence forced my hand, I had no choice! How else was I going to find you?'

'Maybe I didn't want to be found, Junior.'

'How selfish are you that you didn't have the decency to inform me, your best friend, about your plans? You didn't even say goodbye!'

'There was no time Junior, there was a select window of opportunity and I had to go.'

'And you left. Just like that, sixteen years of friendship – gone.' He snapped his fingers. 'Were you so ashamed of your upbringing, of the people who raised and influenced you that you changed everything about yourself? You're not the Siobhan Conlon who used to be my best friend; I don't know who you are.'

'My name isn't Siobhan Conlon anymore, it's Saoirse Nolan.' She said fiercely. 'And I _won't _return to that caged lifestyle.'

'You need to watch your mouth Siobhan, learn some respect.'

'Congratulations, you sound exactlylike _them_.'

'You've noticed I've grown up then?'

Saoirse glared at Jimmy, refusing to accept the deterioration of her former best friend. Had her absence really triggered this personality change? He should have persevered, gone to law school and made something of himself. Something wasn't right here… She'd always been able to figure out when Jimmy was keeping something from her. If there was one thing he was terrible at, it was lying.

'Jimmy… what did he do?' She asked quietly.

'What did who do?'

'Your dad; what did he do to… what was it you said… force your hand?'

'My dad had nothing to do with it. This was my decision and mine alone.'

'James Spillane, don't you _dare _bullshit me; you can't lie your way out of a teapot.'

To her amazement he burst out laughing.

'What? She asked.

'Oh nothing… I just forgot you used to say the most bizarre things.' He took off his well-tailored jacket and placed it carefully on a chair, revealing a crisp white shirt supporting two gun holsters. The pistol butts gleamed in the dim light, looking both enchanting and threatening as he approached. He leant casually against one of the bars and peered at her through the gloom.

'Look, Siobhan –'

'Saoirse.' She corrected

'Siobhan –' He continued as if she hadn't interrupted '– I'm still terribly fond of you… and I want to help you; honestly I do.' He frowned for a moment. 'But how can I when you keep throwing it back in my face?'

'Accepting my father's deal is of no help to me.' She said quietly.

'He won't let you out of here until you comply.'

'Then he'll be exchanging pleasantries with his own box before he embraces me as his daughter.'

'Siobhan please, your infamous stubbornness is of no use to you in this situation.'

'And giving in is? Jimmy, my dad has me in a cage as if I'm some wild animal needing to be tamed. I'm a human being and my free will is being held to a ransom I'm not willing to pay.' She withdrew from the bars and sat in a faraway corner, loathing her helpless state. Jimmy circled the cage and stood behind her, unsure of what he should do next.

'Siobhan, at least eat something.' She ignored the offered food, taking control of the only choice she'd been given since her arrival. Perhaps a hunger strike would cause her captors to take her seriously. She drew strength from this refusal and looked calculatingly at her current captor. Perhaps there was something more powerful than starvation on offer here. Yet before any plans could be crafted, she needed to be sure of her captors feelings.

She began by accepting the offered food which soothed Jimmy's fear of a hunger strike. Saoirse pretended to "accidently" brush her fingers against his as the food exchanged hands and watched his reaction slyly. He didn't disappoint, quickly moving away from the cage to hide his reddening cheeks. He paced for a few moments before excusing himself from the warehouse and promptly left. Saoirse's heart pounded at this revelation, her head dizzy with the power she'd been granted. She spent the next few hours preparing for his return, knowing this would be crucial to her escape plan.

* * *

After hours of thought on the dusty floor, Jimmy finally returned and to put it politely, was a little worse for wear. This worked perfectly in her favour as she fixed Jimmy with a sharp gaze, working up the gooey feelings to make this conversation seem genuine.

'Jimmy?'

'Mhmm?

'Were you being genuine when you talked about joining the mob to find me?'

'You know it doll.'

'Do you know what synopsis that sounds like?'

'The plot behind an awesome crime-thriller?'

'No, it sounds like a terrible romantic comedy. And you know how much I detest those useless films.'

'So we're the stars from a romantic comedy? Who do I play then?'

'I thought that was obvious. You're the handsome Prince Charming who pretends he doesn't have feelings for the protagonist and I'm the stubborn damsel in distress who pretends she doesn't have feelings for the male lead.'

'Why would you cast yourself as a damsel in distress? You always hated those helpless wenches and vowed never to be one.'

'I realised it's the circumstances which make the helpless damsel… not the woman herself.' A dull silence met her words as Jimmy drank them in.

'Say hypothetically you are in need of rescuing… I can't be your prince charming to save you. For that to work you'd need to be in love with me and I would have to return your sentiments.'

'I suppose…' Saoirse murmured.

'But you don't.' Jimmy said starkly.

'I don't what?'

'Love me.'

'I'm sure you're right, sixteen year old butterflies are classified as a crush, not love.'

'When we were teenagers… you wanted us to be more than best friends?'

'Of course.' Saoirse said while shrugging.

'You never articulated your feelings to me.'

'Now that defeats the whole purpose of a crush. There was a certain thrill to be had in keeping this secret; I exchanged blushes and giggles for tickles and punches. I knew you thought of me as a little sister because I was the only girl you remained friends with after you hit puberty and became an arrogant ass. How could I ask for more?' Jimmy approached the cage, grasping a bar in each of his large hands. 'I imagine I broke your heart when I left without saying goodbye and it was due to this sisterly fondness which forced you to come look for me.' Saoirse dropped her gaze and twisted a lock of red hair around her finger. She waited with bated breath while trying to remain aloof, hoping Jimmy was about to embark on his own confession.

'You're being genuine.' He said in amazement. Saoirse raised her eyes and was shocked to find Jimmy inside the cage. Her eyes quickly darted around the interior but landed on the firmly locked door. Perhaps now he was inside she could knock him out, drag his body towards the entrance and scan his hand on the fingerprint scanner. Yet she wasn't as strong as she used to be, her punches commanded none of the panache which was necessary to render an opponent unconscious. Wrestling for one of his guns was out of the question as he'd wisely left them sitting on the same chair as his coat. She'd have to figure a different way out of her little prison… perhaps she could manipulate her little Prince Charming into helping her without his realisation.

'Life's too short to pretend my feelings didn't exist.' Saoirse murmured; aware Jimmy didn't have a clue what sort of escape plan she was trying to create.

'I agree with that. I just can't believe I never knew.'

'Don't beat yourself up Jimmy; I always keep my cards close to my chest.'

'I do too; it's why we were such great friends.'

'Oh please, you're not going to embark on some confession of romantic sentiments are you?' Saoirse asked drily.

'Would it really surprise you?' He asked, looking up at her through long lashes.

'My perspective makes sense. I was younger than you, you were my best friend and you also happened to be incredibly charming and not too hard on the eyes. You returning any feelings was simply ludicrous.'

'You were this fearless red-head who had no problem putting me into my place and you never followed me around like other girls, I always felt I was chasing you.' He took a few steps forward and squatted in front of her, the alcohol had done much to loosen his tongue. 'You know, it wasn't because of some brotherly duty that I joined the mob to find you, it was because I knew, even at that young age that I would never meet a girl like you again.' Saoirse suppressed a flinch as his fingers pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. They lingered there for a moment, Jimmy's eyes probing deeply into hers. She watched him carefully, amazed and frightened by how easily she had manipulated him into this situation. She knew what came next too and had braced herself for the unpleasant experience. Eventually Jimmy sliced through the uncomfortable suspense and unsteadily kissed her. Saoirse suppressed the urge to flinch away from the whiskey soaked lips and tried to ignore what was to be the most unpleasant kiss of her life. After an awkward minute, it finished and Jimmy withdrew, looking remarkably pleased with himself. He smiled lazily at her before falling off his haunches onto his backside and observing her keenly. 'You have nooooo idea how long I've wanted to do that for.' He said while smiling dreamily. Saoirse responded with some similar drivel and allowed Jimmy to throw his arm around her pulling her close. 'My little gun moll.' He muttered into her hair. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of whiskey as she buried her face in his shirt, knowing if she played her cards right, Jimmy would be her stepping stone to freedom.


	21. Chapter 21

For a few blissful moments, Saoirse was under the impression her kidnapping had been a horrific nightmare; yet she unfortunately realised that her "pillow" was in fact Jimmy Junior who was snoring softly. The alcohol induced sleep allowed her to roll away without disturbing his slumbering body and she quickly took advantage of the situation. She stood before his sleeping form and interlocked her fingers together. The cuffs restrained her from properly punching him, so she hoped a wild swing aimed at his temple coupled with the back of his head smashing into an iron bar would knock him fully unconscious. She stood astride him and prepared herself, knowing she only had one chance to get this right. Once she scanned Jimmy's fingerprints, she would leave the cage and seek a way to unlock her handcuffs. Her knuckles white from the pressure, she began the ungracious blow.

The snarling of the warehouse door forced her to drop heavily to the ground, using Jimmy as a make-shift landing pad. He stirred from his sleep and clumsily pushed himself upwards as footsteps quickly approached. Jimmy's eyes were red from too much whiskey and he seemed completely oblivious to the nearing visitors. Quickly changing tact, Saoirse reluctantly began to help him instead of knocking him out.

'Jimmy, you need to get out of this cage before they see you.' She hissed, looking in the direction of the visitors. He gazed at her blearily, a fuddled smile pulling at his lips.

'Why?'

'Jimmy; that could be your dad out there, he won't want to see you "fraternizing with the enemy."'

'But you're not the enemy…'

'For now, he thinks I am.'

'I suppose you're right.' With surprising balance for a hung-over man, he sprang to his feet, scanned his hand and exited the cage. Saoirse ignored the urge to follow him, knowing she would have to be patient for her opportunity to escape. Yet when it arrived, she would sink her teeth into it and wouldn't let go till she'd tasted the sweet centre of freedom.

Jimmy lounged easily in one of the chairs, pretending to be cleaning his gun as the two figures emerged from the darkness. Judging by the slowly retreating shadows, Saoirse guessed it to be early morning, a strange hour for there to be any visitors. As the shadows were dragged from their faces, she found Jimmy Spillane senior flanked by another lieutenant. 'How did our stubborn visitor sleep Junior?' Jimmy Senior asked, his voice booming throughout the cavernous interior.

'Nothing to report.' Junior responded, embracing his father and firmly shaking hands with the silent lieutenant.

'I have to say sweetheart, the cage suits your wild disposition.' Jimmy Senior said while peering through the bars. 'Now, has the hot-headed girl calmed and realised the error in her ways?' He asked patronizingly, fuelling the angry fire which burned white hot in the pit of her stomach. 'Being stubborn was always a marvellous strength of yours, but don't you want to leave this confining space Siobhan? It really is quite filthy.' Saoirse controlled herself, pushing the anger into a safe which was buried deeply within her. There would be time to experience that emotion but this situation was too volatile for her to clumsily lose her temper. Her piercing gaze found Jimmy Senior and she ignored the urge to throw a tantrum, knowing it would only highlight her helplessness.

'Jimmy Spillane, my free will is being held to ransom. You understand better than most how to handle a ransom situation and must respect my stance. After all, I learnt this stubborn reaction from you.'

'Did you now?'

'Growing up in the Conlon household, I learned much from lying on my bedroom floor and eavesdropping on the conversations conducted in the living room below. There was always something to be gleaned whenever you and Michael Conlon had tea. One of these conversations surrounded a ransom situation where one of your boys was kidnapped. I remember quite distinctly you saying there was no problem as long as the kidnapped man didn't comply with the captors conditions regardless of the tortures he was subjected to. I personally found this approach bizarre and illogical; however seeing my current predicament, I realise what you said makes sense. By refusing to co-operate and having no fear of you killing me, the power doesn't stand with you… it lies with me.'

'You may feel empowered by this dramatic statement, but I'll let you in on a little secret Siobhan. When I gave that gem of advice to your dad, it was because I knew we were going after our boy. But who's going to come looking for you? What loyal friends have you made which would be willing to help you from this?' Saoirse's answer died in her throat. She knew she had no-one in the entity of Gotham City who was loyal enough to pull her out of this situation. Mr Fox would be concerned but he didn't know her well enough to risk his life for her. As for Mr Wayne, the way she'd blackened his eye would rightly stop him from embarking on any sort of rescue trip. Her so called best friend had deserted her, leaving her completely alone. Before sinking into the pits of despair, she remembered never hoping for outside interference; her escape plan relied solely on her and the idiotically romantic Jimmy Junior. She didn't need anyone's loyalty but her own.

'Is Michael coming back today?' She asked, smoothly changing the subject.

'Your father is returning later this evening, he's busy moving in at the moment.' Saoirse ignored her plummeting heart. 'Don't worry; he won't forget to pay you a visit. Right, we'll be off then. Just came to make sure Siobhan was where she was supposed to be. I'll see you at home Junior, your mother's cooking her Sunday pot-roast. Don't be late.' With that Jimmy Senior turned and left the warehouse, his expensive shoes echoing while his silent lieutenant continued to stalk his every movement. As the door squealed shut behind them, Junior heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

'Finally, they're gone!' He said gleefully while approaching the cage and allowing himself to enter. Saoirse again restrained herself from bolting towards the exit, reminding herself Junior would no longer be her pawn to manipulate if she revealed her true intentions. His eager approach meant she still had a hold over him and now they were alone, Saoirse knew she needed to tighten her grip. Substituting a grimace for a smile, she threw herself into his awaiting arms and did her best to shower him with romantic affection. After a few nauseous minutes Saoirse managed to pull herself away and sat unsteadily on the floor, her stomach clenched in rebellion. Jimmy's arm once more snaked around her waist and as he muttered sweet nothings into her ear, anger boiled in her veins once more.

No guilt rested on her shoulders concerning the merry chase she was leading Jimmy on. Choosing to embark on some bizarre romantic quest which involved becoming a gangster was not her responsibility to shoulder. Junior was only a stepping stone to freedom; she had no intentions of allowing him to become her boyfriend or "gun moll" as he so horrendously put it. Any person she wanted to embark on a relationship with wouldn't dare keep her locked in a cage until she yielded to her captors.

With the anger reaching a seething red, she took great pains to lock it away with her previously suppressed rage. After carefully stowing the volatile feelings away, she leant her head against the one person she could manipulate; eternally grateful he remained oblivious to her scalding thoughts. She distracted her roaring mind with violent fantasies concerning each of her captors, paying special attention to Lieutenant Briggs who'd atrociously violated her witness protection programme and landed her in this horrific mess. When she got out of here, she promised herself he would receive a painful visit.

* * *

The longest four nights of Saoirse's existence had dragged by and with the rise of every moon, her father had returned to persuade her to return with him. Each time she had refused in a different manner, be it by violent swearing, screaming or saying nothing at all. Despite where her father had failed, Saoirse had made remarkable ground with Jimmy Junior. Due to her perseverance, Junior was completely under her sway. Last night, Saoirse had slowly built up to her proposal which held her escape in the balance: the proposition for Jimmy Junior and herself running away together. After some light persuasion, Junior had fallen head over heels with the idea and promptly began planning their escape. Saoirse had been extraordinarily careful in containing her clinical accuracy concerning their escape, she needed to conceal the hours of thought she had put into this plan. After clumsily guiding him towards the right strategy, they slept on the plan and decided to act it out the following evening after her father would leave, rejected once more by his own daughter.

The day had slouched past but finally, _finally _the evening had arrived. Saoirse watched with impatience as the moon strolled upwards, seeming to take longer than usual. The two had agreed Michael Conlon had to see her one more time before they left. It would give them an entire night's head start on the mob to catch a plane to Europe. Jimmy already had discreetly booked the flights… Only thing is, Saoirse wasn't getting on any plane with Jimmy junior. As soon as she left this cage, she was making a beeline for Gotham's Central Police department. Jimmy's betrayal would make him a wanted man, someone who the mob would undoubtedly want whacked. Saoirse found herself decidedly cold towards the probability of Jimmy's death, so strong was her will to survive. The grinding of the warehouse doors caught her attention and for the first time since she'd been held captive, she was glad to see her father approaching. He was a big man with receding brown hair and deep blue eyes, dressed in a sharp suit which had undoubtedly fallen off the back of some truck, accidently of course. Saoirse noticed he'd brought more of his cronies this evening; at least ten different gangsters flanked her father's arrogant stance. It seemed tonight, he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

'Young lady, you've given me the run around for the past few nights, but not tonight! I need this warehouse so that my clients here; can carefully store their stock without fear of it going missing. Now I'm providing you with an ultimatum so you can learn a little respect for your elders. Anthony Gambino; would you mind presenting the choice for my daughter?' An Italian-American, or a pure bred as Junior would say, stepped forward.

'Siobhan Conlon, I'm sorry we're not meeting under more comfortable circumstances.' He said as he approached the cage. Saoirse watched him closely, wondering what her father was up to; doing business with an Italian was not his style. 'I suppose you don't really remember the night where your drink was spiked with Cerulean? Well your dad and I have been working closely together on this little project and both realise the enormous potential this drug has in this fine city. Think of the people you could manipulate, the authority which could be wrestled from the powerful if this drug were the weapon utilised. And for such a powerful component, it really is a pretty picture. Look –' He opened up a small vial and tapped a strikingly blue powder onto his palm. 'Dissolved in alcohol, it gains direct access to the bloodstream which goes straight to the brain.' He tapped his temple twice.

'I don't see any ultimatum.' Saoirse said impatiently.

'Ah yes, I'll stop meandering and make my point. The powder as I'm sure you know, dissolves well in alcohol, like so.' He took a glass from a nearby table and tipped some honey coloured liquid into the crystal from his hip-flask. After adding a pinch of the powder and dissolving it, he returned to the cage. 'This particular batch of Cerulean is especially potent and won't allow you the pleasure of a memory blank to forget your ordeal. Now here's your choice. Return with your father, be a good daughter and enjoy your life. Or stay here, and have all the food and drink you're offered laced with Cerulean.'

Saoirse's mouth fell open. 'You're not serious.' She stuttered.

'I never make an empty threat Ms Conlon, providing them only results in a weak reputation. I always stick like glue to my word. Oh and one more thing; you have to decide right now.'

'Why right now? I can last till morning without food or drink.'

'Be that as it may, your father wishes this matter to be concluded this evening. And if you decide to reject your father's generous proposal, then the surplus men you see here will force this liquid down your throat.' Saoirse eyed the dangerous men, knowing they would yield to any command from their superior. She couldn't allow that hallucinogen to enter her blood stream again yet she also would not accept her father's proposal. All hopes of her escape began to trickle away as she swallowed her fear and defiantly shook her head.

'No. I don't choose either. I bypass the ultimatum.' To her horror, Anthony Gambino began to laugh.

'You green girl, you can't ignore an ultimatum, it is a decision in which you pick the lesser of two evils, it I not a choice in which you have the luxury of refusing.'

'Well I refuse it!' She snarled.

'A feisty one you have here Michael Conlon. Alright boys bring her out, she didn't choose so we'll have to decide for her.' Saoirse scrambled to the furthest edge of the cage and held onto the bars tightly. Two large thugs entered the cage and approached her, ignoring her flailing limbs she tried and failed to fight them off. After biting and kicking, she was brought to her knees in front of her father who offered her the drug laced alcohol. Saoirse stared rebelliously at her father, refusing to accept the glass. His blue eyes looked at her in disappointment before her nodded towards another two men who took the glass from him.

'Stay nice and still pretty.' One muttered as his hand clamped firmly around her nose, wrenching her head backwards. Her arms and legs were pinned to her sides and the fourth member approached with the crystal glass. Saoirse clenched her teeth together, willing to bite off this gangster's fingers instead of letting that liquid enter her body. She tried squirming but it was no use, the glass was placed against her lips and her mouth was slowly but surely wrenched open. She closed her eyes as the liquid slowly moved away from its glass prison. When she opened her eyes again, all the lights were shut off. Torches were immediately recovered form belts as each gangster withdrew their guns and began looking for the intruder. A back-up generator allowed some light to battle the warehouse's heavy shadows yet the trespasser was still cloaked in the darkness. One of the thugs set the crystal glass on a nearby table and withdrew a machine gun from beneath his coat. Saoirse had no idea how he'd managed to conceal such a weapon and decided not to ask. She surveyed her surroundings uncertainly as did her captors. The ceiling was lost to darkness but as soon as her gaze lowered, she knew someone or some_thing _was falling from the roof at a very fast pace. With a few war cries emitted, the mobsters began shooting at the falling intruder who so happened to be gliding towards the ground via a set of bat wings. He landed mere feet from Saoirse and much to their amazement, began engaging the gangsters in hand-to-hand combat. Saoirse took the opportunity to roll away from the ensuing brawl towards a hiding place, grabbing Jimmy Spillane Senior's coat en-route. The groans of injured men echoed eerily around the warehouse as Saoirse scrambled in the pockets for the keys to her cuffs. Eventually a hidden zip pocket granted her the keys and after a few fumbling seconds, her hands were free for the first time in days. She rose from her hiding place to find an astonishing sight. The Batman was taking on all ten members of her father's hired muscle. Shivers stole through Saoirse's body as she watched the legend gracefully dispose of one, two, three, _four _attackers in a beautiful variety of martial art steps which demonstrated his control over his own body. Never before had she seen a man so capable of defending himself regardless of the number of attackers. Bones were broken and blood was shed as the batman blocked and counter attacked with the ferocity of a mythical creature. Saoirse was intoxicated by the gruesome yet elegant display of violence, her heart pounding as the Dark Knight outclassed each and every challenger.

Her gaze was torn form the spectacular spectacle as she noted Anthony Gambino, Michael Conlon and Jimmy Spillane Senior haring towards the exit, using the time when Batman's attention was distracted to escape. Saoirse quickly searched for the safe where she had buried all her emotions from the past four days and unleashed the rage which had so carefully been supressed. Her blood pounded in her ears as she tore after the three gangsters, knowing with this adrenaline rush, she'd reach them before they escaped. They managed to heave the warehouse door open and slip through the entrance before she reached them. Her hands were clenched around the hand cuffs, and using the metal band as a make-shift knuckle duster, she grabbed Jimmy Spillane Senior by the shoulder, turned him around and swiped his face with an adrenaline pumped right hook. Blood and teeth decorated the ground followed heavily by his unconscious form. Next was the Italian; Anthony Gambino; who might have made it to his car if he smoked less cigars and ate less of his wife's oily cooking. Saoirse took a savage pleasure in kneeing him in the groin area and swiping him with an old fashioned one-two punch combination which brought him to the ground. With an exceptional rush of adrenaline, she sprinted after her father who had successfully gained access to his car. As the engine started, Saoirse felt decidedly reckless and instead of jumping out of the car's way, threw herself at the windscreen, her hands covering her head for some last-minute protection. The glass shattered upon impact decorating her with a thousand shallow cuts which would make her next shower a living hell. Her momentum carried her through the extinct windscreen where she spectacularly head butted her father. She lay still for a moment, the engine of the car conking out as her ears rang from the clash of skulls. She slowly moved each part of her body, genuinely stunned to find no bones broken from her recklessness. Her head pounded but she was pretty sure she'd escaped a concussion. Carefully, she managed to withdraw herself from the car and walked painfully back towards the now silent warehouse. Upon entering, she found Batman tying a length of rope around the ten thugs which were locked tightly inside one of the circus cages. After finishing, the Dark Knight approached, his powerful body dramatically stalked by his billowing cloak.

'You're bleeding… you're bleeding _everywhere_. What happened?' Saoirse had forgotten just how deep his voice was, adding perfectly to his overall terrifying image.

'It's sort of what happens when you leap through the windscreen of a car and clash heads with a gangster who's trying to take off into the sunset.' She muttered in a far-away voice, grimacing with pain.

'What's your name?' He asked instead of voicing how reckless an act that had been.

'You don't remember my name? Look Batman, I know you're busy and all, but I drove your bat-mobile, you should at least remember my name.'

'I know your name. I'm just checking to see if you know your name in case you're concussed.'

'Oh. Yeah… that make's sense. Saoirse Nolan. My name is Saoirse Nolan.'

'Are you hurt?'

'It probably looks worse than it is.' She replied; the cuts sustained from the windscreen stung but her body itself remained fairly unscathed given her careless behaviour.

'I'm counting on it. Did the others escape?'

'You missed three outside. Don't worry; I didn't let any get away.' She said, her voice adopting a slightly dreamy tone. The two exited the warehouse, Saoirse hobbling awkwardly beside the striding legend. They first came upon Anthony Gambino's unconscious frame which Batman threw carelessly over his shoulder as if he weighed no more than a child's doll.

'Are those his teeth on the ground?' He asked.

'Yeah… I used my handcuffs as a knuckle duster when I hit him. It had a rebound effect though…' Saoirse muttered, raising her right hand to see where the cuffs had bit into her palm.

'You need medical treatment. I'll take you to the hospital as soon as we're finished here.'

'Screw the hospital, I need to go yell at the police and bring the pain to Lieutenant Briggs. Actually, I could use your help for that…' Saoirse murmured, unaware she was voicing her thoughts aloud.

'And why must you cause Lieutenant Briggs harm?'

'It's sort of a long story; I'll tell you if we have time.' She muttered as he dragged all three big-shot gangsters into a cage of their own. He found a new piece of rope and secured it around the unconscious trio before returning to Saoirse's side.

'You can tell your story en-route to the hospital.' Saoirse didn't have the strength to argue.

'Do you mind if I lean on you? I'm feeling a bit woozy…' She murmured, her vision blurring then re-focusing every minute. She felt his strong arm grip around her waist but a shrill voice made her blood run cold.

'Get your filthy hands off her, she's _mine_.' Snarled Jimmy Junior who had somehow escaped Batman's wrath.

'Take it easy there kid, that's some heavy machinery you've got there.' Batman said calmly as if this conversation was completely normal.

'Jimmy –' Saoirse began.

'Quiet Siobhan, I'm going to get you out of here and then it's off to Europe for us!'

'I thought you said your name was Saoirse?' The Dark Knight said in an undertone.

'Wold you try and focus on our current predicament?' Saoirse hissed.

'What do you want?' Batman asked, returning his attention to Jimmy junior.

'To get Siobhan and leave this place.'

'Alright. Go. Take her.' Saoirse glared at Batman, outraged by his plan.

'You won't interfere?' Junior asked unsteadily.

'Not in here, you're the one with all the control. Take her and leave, I won't stop you.'

'Siobhan, come here.' Junior beckoned. Saoirse flinched when he called her by that name and reluctantly edged her way towards him. As soon as she reached him he went to embrace her, yet thankfully throwing yourself through a windscreen provided an unexpectedly valid reason for refusing him. She cast back a confused look to Batman as Jimmy shepherded her out of the warehouse for good. He increased the pace, continuously looking behind him for any sign of Batman exiting the warehouse and giving chase. The two eventually sat in the front seats of Junior's car, Jimmy breathing a huge sigh of relief while the machine gun rested on the dashboard. 'Well what do you know? The Batman was true to his word.'

'Not quite.' Came a voice form the backseat followed by a swift blow to Jimmy's temple, knocking him completely unconscious. Saoirse painfully turned around and stared at Batman in awe.

'How the bloody hell did you get in there?' She wondered aloud. He merely tapped his nose twice and quickly left the car. He helped Saoirse from the passenger seat and quickly grew impatient with her stumbling walk. With a yelp she was lifted from the ground and carried towards the concealed bat-mobile. She was too sore to argue as Batman placed her like a child into the passenger seat of the car. He climbed in beside her, waited for the roof to slide back into position and allowed the Tumbler to roar into existence. He manoeuvred it expertly through the winding alleyways which slowly began to form more road-worthy tarmac.

'What's your story which ties you to the Manhattan mob?' He asked. Saoirse looked at him for a second, unsure whether she could trust him with this information. Yet with her witness protection so blatantly broken, it hardly mattered for trust now. As the tumbler hungrily ate the road, she relayed her story from growing up with a mafia boss to her testimony in court to her witness protection scheme. Not once did he ask a question throughout her tale and it was only when she finished did he speak.

'So your name isn't Saoirse Nolan?'

'I'm not the person I used to be, I'll never fit back into Siobhan Conlon; she seems like a forgotten child-hood friend.' Saoirse muttered.

'And you're sure it was Lieutenant Briggs who jeopardized your witness protection?' She nodded. 'And what was this about you going to Europe with the machine-gun?'

'As children he was always very taken with me so I capitalized on those feelings and manipulated him to provide an escape route. He was my way out as I wasn't relying on anyone to come save me.'

'What about your friend, the one who was stabbed?'

'Lisbeth? Oh she's gone, some bullshit about her post traumatic stress never ceasing when she was around me.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be, I'm just happy she finally showed her true colours… So where do you get your hands on a vehicle like this? I'd expect to find it in my place of work.'

'Wayne Enterprise?'

'How did you know I worked there?'

'I know things.'

'Well… good for you.'

Saoirse felt a sudden bout of exhaustion crash over her, the last of her adrenaline had finally worn off and she was beginning to pay the price for her excursions. She curled up on her chair and quickly lost the fight to keep her eyes open. She had somehow found herself in the goddamn Bat-mobile and she was falling asleep instead of digesting its fascinating centre. This just wasn't her week… As the realms of dreams and the impossible tugged her firmly downwards, she managed to mumble two essential words.

'Thank you.' She whispered as her surroundings melted into the shadows.


	22. Chapter 22

Saoirse's skin tingled persistently, waking her from an exhausted slumber. She wearily hoisted herself into a sitting position and blearily took in her surroundings. To her dismay, bars of steel loomed in the distance, quickly striking despair into her heart. It had all been some drug-induced fantasy; the cerulean had entered her system causing her to believe the wild, non-nonsensical vision she had experienced. Yet as the bars of steel dictated, she hadn't escaped. She was right back where she started, imprisoned in an abandoned warehouse. She slumped against the pillows, allowing her failure to wash over her.

'Ah good, you're awake.' Saoirse's head snapped to the right, unable to understand why Commissioner Gordon was standing beside her. Was this another hallucination? No… this was far too normal to be fantasy. 'You look slightly confused… do you know where you are?' She noted how the Commissioner's face remained intact when he spoke, not melting as was reputed to happen under the influence of cerulean. 'You're in the infirmary of Gotham's county jail.' He said, looking a little uncertain.

'I'm in the what?' She spluttered, not liking where this conversation was heading.

'The infirmary. After you were brought here by a… _mutual _friend; you needed to receive medical attention hence why you were conveyed here.' As her vision cleared, Saoirse realised the Commissioner was right. Granted there were bars of steel surrounding her bed, yet _beyond _the cage could be seen a doctor treating some patients clothed in orange jumpsuits. A smile broke across her face as she craned to see past the bars yet the happy expression quickly soured into a grimace of pain, her cheeks feeling as if tiny needles were being stabbed repeatedly into her flesh. 'Take it easy Ms Nolan; you've had a rough couple of days.'

'Bit of an understatement.' Saoirse muttered as she reluctantly relaxed. 'Commissioner?' She asked.

'Yes Ms Nolan?'

'They were caught… weren't they?' She asked uncertainly. Her senses were slowly sharpening and upon observing the commissioner, she noticed the look of worry creasing his brow.

'I wish I could say yes. But unfortunately I can't provide words of hollow comfort even after the ordeal you've experienced. All I have against the mob is the story from a masked vigilante which regardless of being the truth, will not stand up in court.'

'What about my story? They held me hostage for five nights in a cage!'

'Your story is of greater importance compared with the Batman's. Yet what remains the most crucial part of this entire mess is your safety, not the doings of the Manhattan mafia in Gotham. After a quick chat with your escort, it came to my attention that you came into contact with the very people the law was protecting you from. We need to act quickly while we still have you here but before we make any rash decisions, my men and I need to be fully informed.'

'Fully informed of what? How I escaped?' She asked scathingly.

'No; before that. Your witness protection scheme, we need to know details about it and decide what we should do which will best benefit you and the people of Gotham.'

'You want someone to blame? Try Lieut –'

'Shh, not here! We don't know who might be listening.' The commissioner muttered while looking exceptionally paranoid. 'Finish healing up; then you'll have a proper talk with me and my men. Doctor?!' He called, attracting the attention of the nearest white coat.

'Yes Commissioner?'

'When will this young lady be discharged?'

'I'll keep her overnight just to be sure. Apart from the multiple yet minor lacerations, she's completely unharmed.'

'Thank you Doctor.' The Commissioner said dismissively. He didn't resume until the doctor was out of ear-shot. 'I know you're angry Ms Nolan, what's happened here has been a complete failure on the law enforcement side. But before I leave, let me say this.' He leaned closer. 'Your enemies are powerful and many because you bravely stood up for justice. Your status as Michael Conlon's daughter will be heavily taken advantage of by the Gotham Police.' He stepped backwards and returned his voice to normal levels. 'I realise the food in here isn't fit for animals, but try to replenish your strength, you'll need it for our little chat tomorrow.' He said. The commissioner gave her a knowing nod before turning and leaving. Saoirse watched him go, the initial anger stifled by her confusion. How could the Gotham Police possibly take advantage of her being Michael Conlon's daughter? The thought didn't sit well with her, provoking a dread to creep through her bones which intensified upon thinking of her meeting tomorrow.

* * *

The next morning an officer by the name of Blake escorted her from the infirmary towards what she presumed to be the interview room. Within those walls, she would tell the story she had been desperately trying to suppress for years. She distracted herself from the uncomfortable prospect by observing her escort. He was tall with dark hair and even darker eyes and unlike most police officers she had come into contact with; he was born to wear that navy uniform. He remained silent for the walk, refusing to make small talk and much to her relief, making no effort to enquire about her well-being. Her glass cuts had been treated and were well into the process of healing, most wouldn't leave a mark though the doctor mentioned one or two leaving scars. Saoirse found herself quite enamoured with this idea, she preferred having a trophy on display, acknowledging the suffering she'd been through instead of burying it from preying eyes.

'So, what was it like driving the Bat-mobile?' Officer Blake asked, breaking ten minutes of solid silence. Saoirse quickly recovered from the surprising statement.

'I've no idea what you're talking about.' She responded tiredly, having no energy to defend herself from the hot-headed officer.

'Oh I think you do.' He said with an air of certainty. Saoirse stopped, about to give the self-righteous officer a piece of her mind when she was distracted by his vaguely familiar face. She swallowed her lecture and took a hard look at Officer Blake. Memories from the past few months flittered through her mind's eye until she landed on a particular evening where Sergeant Jackson along with about seven other officers had the Bat-mobile surrounded outside of Gotham General. He was demanding the whereabouts of Batman, yet it wasn't him she was concentrating on. Standing beside him with a gun pointing at her had been; yes she was quite sure of it now; Officer Blake. She allowed herself a small, painful smile. 'You were one of the officers surrounding the bat-mobile at Gotham General.'

'With memory re-call like that, it's no wonder you're a hot-shot engineer at Wayne Enterprise.' He said with a slight curve of the lips.

'Officer Blake, if you've lead half the life I have, you'd understand why remembering faces is of paramount importance.'

'See this is the thing Ms Nolan, the life you've lead couldn't possibly land you in the situations which you've found yourself in. Some goody-two-shoes engineer doesn't find herself driving the bat-mobile and then a few months later being hand-delivered by the caped crusader to the Commissioner himself!'

'You don't believe in co-incidences Officer Blake? Being in the wrong place at the wrong time?'

'I'm a police officer; it's against my nature to accept things just "happening" without an explanation. That's why I looked you up and frankly, your past in Gotham doesn't fit with the person standing in front of me.' The two carefully regarded one another, Saoirse wondering why the officer had taken such a keen interest in her life.

'I should be completely incensed by this violation of privacy and I ought to report you to your superiors.' She said in a deathly quiet voice.

'Ms Nolan, let's not get ahead of –'

'You think I wanted any of this to happen? You believe for one second I wanted to be some poor damsel in distress where I needed some dark knight to save me?' Saoirse found her voice cracking, and angrily fought against the threat of tearing eyes.

'That's not what I'm saying at all. You strike me as very independent, almost feminist woman.' He said very quietly.

'Well what blasted point are you trying to make officer?' Saoirse hissed.

'There's something you didn't tell us when you came in after that stint with the bat-mobile. Something massive concerning your past which forced you to run into the welcoming arms of a witness protection programme.'

'Officer, that's simply ludicrous –'

'In my old department we dealt with many cases like yours, where many witness's biggest fears had finally caught up with them. They all had the same expression which you've been wearing subconsciously since I began escorting you. The fear is present yet there is a form of relief. Your anxiety wasn't all for nothing and soon it'll all be over.' Saoirse felt no fear from the officer's bulls-eye deduction. She was simply impressed by the officer's detective work. He showed wisdom beyond his young years and had just demonstrated his keen observation skills which so many police officers lacked.

'Your rank has stopped you from gaining solid evidence to support your theory, yet you have the utter balls to bounce your hypothesis off me, the very person who you're investigating.' Officer Blake observed her coolly, not looking uncomfortable in the slightest. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling reckless. 'Seeing as you're so enamoured with my life, would you like to know what it is that I'm running from? Being a lowly officer means you won't hear my true story which as you rightfully perceived, is starkly different to the one I have on file.'

'I'm sure it's a jaw-dropping tale, but you've obviously done something of merit which earned you this protection and I don't want to compromise your safety to satisfy my own curiosity. It's enough to know my gut instinct was correct.' He said dismissively. Saoirse regarded the officer before her, wondering why he wasn't at least a detective.

'If there had been more officers like you when I was younger, officers willing to put their political intentions aside for the sake of justice, perhaps I wouldn't have had anything to run from in the first place. Just know this Officer Blake, I'm no criminal war lord, no drug dealer, nor am I a serial killer. I cut no deal with the police to get out of some jail time.' She looked at him imploringly.

'I never accused you of being such a person. My gut told me you were hiding something important and it seems I was right. I never suspected you of being… well a criminal.' He muttered

I can only hope your superiors are as understanding.' Saoirse said, ignoring the dread which stirred through her stomach. The two began to walk again, glancing at each other intermittently with a new-found respect. Officer Blake did Saoirse the justice of keeping quiet until the desired interview room loomed in the distance, holding a confession he had decided he didn't need to hear. Just as she was about to enter, he stopped her, looking left and right to make sure no-one could hear.

'What?'

'Commissioner Gordon has a message for you.'

'And you're only telling me now?' She hissed. 'Well… better late than never. What did he say?'

'He said; and this was his exact wording; the King will be protected at all costs, regardless of the sacrifices which need to be made. Do you know what that means?' He added.

Saoirse sighed deeply. Although she didn't know exactly what the Commissioner was trying to say, the overall meaning was pretty clear. Watch out, you are but a pawn to them, they will show you no mercy. 'It's a warning to prepare myself for an attack. I better get in there and defend myself, there's nothing worse than being stabbed in the back when you're not even present.' She turned towards Officer Blake. 'Thank you for restoring some of my faith in the police. And in answer to your former inquiry, driving the bat-mobile was like driving a Ferrari which had been pumped with steroids to turn into a mythical beast which happened to have a steering wheel.' She chuckled to herself. 'If you ever receive the opportunity to drive it, I'd advise you to accept.' Without waiting for his response, she squared her shoulders, opened the door and strode into the interview room.


	23. Chapter 23

The door closed with a sense of finality as she sat down on the only available chair and faced her inquisition: an assured Commissioner Gordon, a disgruntled looking Sergeant Jackson and a sneering Lieutenant Briggs. Rage emitted from her in pulsating waves and Saoirse was genuinely surprised they didn't scald the man who had so carelessly disrupted her life. She concentrated on taking deep breaths and her blistering glare faded when she focused on the kindly face of the Commissioner.

'Thank you for joining us Ms Nolan, I hope your injuries aren't troubling you much?' Saoirse shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. The injustice of this situation was completely overwhelming; the man who had handed her over like a slab of red meat to the Manhattan gangsters still held his badge and was sitting across from her, idly twiddling his thumbs. 'Now Ms Nolan, would you mind explaining to us in detail, what happened which prompted the Manhattan Police Department to issue you with witness protection?' The Commissioner asked. His sharp gaze fixated upon her, understanding the rage she was battling against yet imploring her to remember his warning. Being manipulated as a pawn was not a fate she would fall prey to. Perhaps she should calmly tell her story and resist the urge to hurl her chair at Lieutenant Briggs…

'Haven't the Police Department sent you the files Commissioner?' Saoirse asked, truly surprised by her rock-steady voice.

'They have released minimal information on the case as they do not believe you to be in immediate danger.' Saoirse managed to stifle a scoff. 'However, you and I know a little better, hence why I organised this meeting. You have indeed come into harmful contact with the Manhattan Mafia, a gang which the law promised and failed to protect you from. After this important interview is conducted, steps will be taken to quickly enter you into a new protection scheme.' He shuffled some papers. 'You may be curious about my colleagues but I assure you their presence is mandatory.' He looked sideways at his Lieutenant. 'Whenever you're ready.' He said, observing her carefully over his glasses.

For the next half an hour Saoirse laid out her childhood, family, her dad's business and his trial for the three policemen to scrutinise. The Commissioner took pages and pages of notes, scribbling away like a crazed schoolboy trying to finish an exam. Sergeant Jackson upgraded from disgruntled to sympathetic as her story continued to pour while Lieutenant Briggs remained unmoved. He sat there, arms folded across his creased shirt like a statue waiting to be crapped on.

'That's everything up to when I moved to Gotham and began living by the name Saoirse Nolan.' She said; her mouth feeling like sandpaper from constantly talking. Commissioner Gordon folded his arms and turned his body towards Lieutenant Briggs.

'Well? What do you think now?' He asked. Lieutenant Briggs just shrugged, angering the Commissioner deeply.

'I was just following orders Commish.' Lieutenant Briggs said dully.

'You went and destroyed this girl's life for the sake of your political advancement in this police force! Do you see what she has suffered? Can you even comprehend the tragedy which you have brought crashing around her ears?'

'I don't regret my actions, I followed orders you didn't have the guts to give.' Lieutenant Briggs said stoically, refusing to meet Saoirse's hatred-fuelled glare.

'Guts? You think it took _guts _to give those orders Lieutenant? You want a gutsy order to follow? How about this! You're suspended without pay pending your investigation.'

'Investigation for what Commish? I did nothin' wrong.'

'Investigation for corruption, for reckless behaviour!' The Commissioner roared.

'Commissioner please; calm yourself. Lieutenant Briggs, there's no need to worry; your position is perfectly safe.' Said a smooth voice to Saoirse's right. Her head snapped to the other half of the interview room which was bathed in shadow, and emerging from the darkness was a figure which made her blood run cold. It was Anthony Garcia, the Mayor of Gotham City. Her heart felt crushed upon realising how powerful her enemies were. 'It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms Nolan.' He said graciously and offered his hand which Saoirse promptly ignored.

'It was you. You ordered Lieutenant Briggs to meddle with my witness protection.' She said with a drumming heart.

'Meddle, is a strong word Ms Nolan. If you look back through my filed history, you will find no record of me authorizing such an order. However, I did encourage the Lieutenant to dig deeper into your past to see if anything of interest came to light. And low and behold, we have the daughter of one of America's most notorious gangsters nesting in our fair city.' Saoirse stared at the Mayor, wondering why he was making a speech when there were no television cameras to impress. Instead of embarking on a spiel entailing how horrifically illegal the Mayor's actions were, she opted for a different approach.

'Why?' She asked.

'Why what?'

'Upon realising who I am unfortunately related to, why did you upset my Witness Protection? Did my father have some influence over you?'

'Good gracious, no, what on earth gave you that idea! Your father holds no power over Gotham's Mayor, his territory is miles away…'

'Then why?' Saoirse asked, growing more annoyed and impatient by the second.

'Alright then, let's get down to the nuts and bolts of it. Your real father, Michael Conlon, is a notorious gangster who's in the process of expanding his territories. Gotham is lacking in organised crime due to a certain masked vigilante and your father has seized this opportunity with both hands. His legal business (waste management) has been attempting to buy numerous warehouses around Gotham City in order to provide a stable foundation for his criminal activity to flourish.'

'I'm aware.' Saoirse said.

'How could you possibly know?' He asked with a horrified expression.

'I know because he decided to tell me when I was kidnapped by his cronies and held hostage in a tiger's cage.' Saoirse muttered, trying to stop her voice from rising.

'Well, back to my original point. I apologize, I really do for the action lieutenant Briggs had to take, but you must understand Ms Nolan, we had no choice.'

'Had no choice?'

'I have no way of knowing what these criminals are going to do, how or when they will act. We have no-one to send undercover as they've brought their own muscle from Manhattan and have no vacancies for any Gotham thugs. Do you understand my problem Ms Nolan?' He asked; his heavily lashed eyes blinking furiously.

'You have a new criminal unit setting up in Gotham and you have no way to fight it.' Saoirse muttered. 'I still don't understand why you had to jeopardise my own safety.'

'Mayor, if you're going to ask someone to undertake a monumental burden, at least have the decency to tell them what it is you want them to do.' Commissioner Gordon said impassively. The Mayor nodded and once again focused his attention on Saoirse.

'In a nutshell, I need you to accept your father's offer of returning to the Conlon household. There I want you to spy on your father's mafia and relay vital evidence back to Gotham Police which will imprison him for good.'

Words failed Saoirse. This expression has been abused over the past century in many different mediums but there she sat, truly speechless. Thoughts drifted dreamily through her bewildered mind and it took a solid sixty seconds for her brain to gain full functionality and allow her vocal chords to work once more.

'You want me to _what_?' She managed to splutter, her voice pitched at a nonsensical squeak. The mayor placed both hands on the arm rests of her chair and leaned closer.

'I want you to do what no other police officer can. I want you to go undercover against your father in order to bring him down once and for all.' His eyes bore into hers but as the absurdity of his proposal began to seep into Saoirse's brain, there was only one thing she was interested in doing. She couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing. It was completely maniacal, the laughter worthy of a straitjacket. She spent a few moments catching her breath and grinned into the serious face of the Mayor.

'You really think, after the violation of my privacy, that I would do anything, _anything _to help you? What part of your idiotic brain decided that this, _this _was the way to get me on board? Why would I return to the very place which scarred my childhood by allowing me to see the uglier side of life before I was ready for it? What logic did you employ oh mighty mayor which made you think that I would volunteer for such a deadly position? I already persecuted my father and due to some police blunder, he was released after a measly two years!'

'It would be for the people of Gotham. You would be saving them from a new wave of mass organised crime.'

'It's not my duty to protect the people of Gotham, Mayor; I believe that's your title. I don't owe these people anything. Trying to force me to help you has squandered any chance of me accepting your proposal. How can I trust you after you blatantly betrayed my trust?'

'If you don't trust me, trust Commissioner Gordon.'

'I do trust the Commissioner, but for different reasons. He was a true protector, wanting to make sure my safety came first and unlike his hot headed lieutenant, he didn't care about his own political interests. He didn't back me into a corner and try to force me to accept an incredibly dangerous deal.'

'So you refuse?' He said with raised brows, not looking overly put-out.

'Of course I refuse! You're going to issue me with a new witness protection scheme and then that's it, I'm gone from Gotham for good.' She said while pushing the Mayor away and standing up. 'And you know what? There's not a single thing you can do to stop me.' She turned and strode for the door.

'Ms Nolan, would you care to know why I was elected Mayor?'

'Not really.' Saoirse responded, her hand resting on the door, waiting for security to open it.

'It was because I always had a trick up my sleeve, something which would always sway my opposition.'

'Unoriginal politics, yet they seem to be effective nonetheless. Now if you'll excuse me –'

'You really didn't think I would leave something like this to chance? That I would vainly hope you would nobly undertake this monstrous burden and if you did not, place my faith in the Batman instead? You're very naive if you thought I had nothing else to persuade you with.'

Saoirse whipped around. 'You're bluffing. The only thing which I want buried is what I spent half an hour telling you. There's nothing else you can threaten me with, nothing you can use all your political influence and power to make me accept your dangerous contract. You're utterly powerless.' She turned and strode for the door, having no intention of continuing this conversation.

'Well then, I suppose you wouldn't be interested in the well-being of your sister?' The Mayor asked, his voice quivering with excitement.

'I don't have a sister. I'm an only child.' Saoirse said, trying to brush off the statement while staring at the steel door wishing for nothing else but for it to move aside.

'Mayor, I really must stop you –'

'Quiet Commissioner! Now Saoirse, I quite agree with you, when you left Manhattan you were indeed an only child. But that all changed in your eighteenth year. Much to your parents surprise, your mother fell pregnant and nine months later, she gave birth to a little girl who is genetically speaking, your full-blooded little sister. Would you like to know her name?'

'You're lying.' Saoirse said calmly, still staring at the steel door.

'Is it really so hard to believe? Your mother was ten years younger than your father, she gave birth to you when she was 22 and then at the age of 40, she gave birth to your sister. You were in the witness protection scheme and were forbidden to find out about your new sibling for fear of you returning to Manhattan.'

'You're lying' Saoirse repeated through gritted teeth.

'Would you like to see a photo of her? I have several including a few adorable family portraits.' She heard him shuffle through some files on the desk before pulling out the desired pictures.

'You're lying.' Saoirse whispered.

'Well look at these photos and decide for yourself.' The Mayor said invitingly.

'You're lying because after my mother gave birth to me, the Doctors said her womb was no longer fit for cultivating anymore children. She could not grant me siblings.'

'Your mother is a devout Catholic Ms Nolan and when miraculously she found out, she decided to pursue with the full term of the pregnancy as abortion is against her religion. I assure you your sister is very real but accepting my proposal is the only way you can finally meet her.'

Saoirse closed her eyes and gave in. She turned from the steel door and snatched the photos from the Mayor's hand, feasting her eyes on the pictures. There were four in total; two were portraits while another two had been secretly taken of the family attending Sunday church. Saoirse ignored her mother's tired looking face or her father's hooded expression and fixated on the little girl nestled between them. Her hair was ginger like her own; an impish smile played on her lips while round blue eyes popped from her pale skin. Saoirse felt love, unconditional and pure stir in her heart for the little girl in the picture. Her gut told her that this little bundle was indeed her own flesh and blood and that the mayor was telling the truth. The pictures weren't photo-shopped, she had enough experience with that software to tell when an image had been tampered with. Tears blurred her vision and she felt her heart pound erratically.

'I need some fresh air.' She muttered, feeling light-headed.

'Not until I have my answer.' The Mayor said sharply.

'You won't get an answer from me if I'm about to faint.' Saoirse muttered weakly.

'Mayor, perhaps a few minutes outside of this room would be of some benefit.' The Commissioner interjected. The Mayor looked at him scathingly before reluctantly nodding to the adjacent one-way mirror, the concealed person finally opening the steel door. Saoirse stumbled into the corridor and leant heavily against the wall.

'Officer Blake, take Ms Nolan up to the roof for some fresh air.' The Commissioner said with an unusual tenderness in his voice. Saoirse didn't remember Blake supporting her up the steep staircase; focusing only on the creased photos clenched in her hand. A blast of cold air chased away her mild fever and dizziness and she took a deep breath of the surrounding night air. She hurriedly stole another look at the photos, her emotions spiking upon seeing the little girls face again. She stroked the girls face tenderly, having to once again choke back tears.

'Is that your little sister? She's an absolute dead ringer.' Officer Blake said, gifting Saoirse with a small smile. She didn't respond to his spot on detective skills, preferring to analyse her decidedly boring surroundings instead. 'How about I give you some space before you return for round two? I'll only be on the other side of the door.' He said while leaving her in peace on the rooftop. If she hadn't been so distraught, she'd have thanked him for his sensitivity. She returned her attention to the picture in front of her and re-considered the mayor's unreasonable proposal. He knew he had her with this. She didn't have a choice; she had to meet her sister.

Saoirse began to pace the rooftop and was pleasantly surprised to discover the Batman distress signal lying innocently to her right. She approached the massive light and felt tempted to turn it on, but refrained from doing so. There was no help the dark knight could offer her tonight. She clambered aboard the curved surface and carefully approached the adjacent wall which she nimbly ascended. She stood atop the dull bricks and looked down, her stomach plummeting down the fifty storey drop. She stared for a long moment at the cars meandering around the far away road, worrying about their own problems, yet none quite as momentous as the ones Saoirse had to deal with. She held the picture of her sister (for she was quite sure it was her sibling) in front and entertained the notion of dropping the picture and jumping after it.

'Jumping won't solve anything.' A familiar deep voice growled.

'I know. It's just nice to think I have a choice.' She responded quietly.

'You always have a choice.'

'Not this time.' She returned to the Batman distress signal, jumped and landed lightly on the rooftop. She placed the picture beside her own face and turned towards him. 'Uncanny resemblance is it not?'

'This isn't a time to rashly accept a dangerous deal. You don't know if it's your real sister.'

'I know if I asked for it, you could confirm if she's related to me or not. But that doesn't matter in the slightest. My decision remains the same regardless of the blood relation.'

'This mess isn't your responsibility to clean up.'

'You mean it's yours?' She asked incredulously.

'You shouldn't have to suffer as a result of the family you were born into. Don't make this decision based on your raw emotions.'

'I bet it was a completely selfless, unemotional decision which allowed you to wear your disguise and take on Gotham's criminals one fist-fight at a time.'

'I knew what war I was declaring and the reasons behind it when I originally donned this mask.'

'I'm sure whatever psychologically damaging experience you had as a child never influenced your decision to take the law into your own hands.' Saoirse said scathingly. 'I have the opportunity to save someone from the crippling childhood I suffered through and as a knock off; I can actually bring down the Manhattan Mafia. You can't do that, the Gotham Police have failed to infiltrate my father's gang; _I'm _the only one who can save her!' Saoirse roared. She'd never felt this angry, this sad, this much _pain_. So enthralled had she been with her rant, she'd failed to notice the torrential rain pouring from the sky. 'Battles can be declared and won by a single man. War on the other hand is won by the teamwork of soldiers. And make no mistake: This. Is. War.' She strode over to the door concealing Officer Blake and rapped three times. The door swung open and she ducked into the passageway, glancing back to find the roof deserted.


	24. Chapter 24

Being accepted into the Conlon family had been uncomfortably easy. Saoirse was convinced there would be consequences for her outrageous violence against Jimmy Senior, Anthony Gambino and of course, her own father yet her suspicions were never indulged. A few days after her chat with the mayor, she'd arrived on her father's doorstep with tears in her eyes, demanding knowledge of her withheld sister. Mayor Garcia had reluctantly agreed to this strategy after a ferocious argument where Saoirse concluded the only way to regain her father's trust was by making it clear that her sister was the primary reason for her return. Her theory was proven correct when her father had struck the board clean from her aggressive behaviour and invited her inside his lavishly furnished home. They had sat drinking the finest beans in the city while observing each other calculatingly. Heavy drinking and many cigarettes had been unkind to her father while his sodden brown hair receded in fright, exposing a large forehead. His eyes were the same blue as hers yet held a steely nature, exposing the villain lurking beneath. She hadn't looked at them for any extended period, knowing those eyes had witnessed the horrors he'd inflicted on countless victims. When the freezing glare fell upon her cautious gaze, she was convinced her resolve had deserted and felt the cold fear which had originally driven her from Manhattan. A nauseous stomach stirred with a heavy portion of hatred needed to be concealed from her father yet Saoirse had retained her poker face and conducted the following conversation with grace, even when he referred to her as Siobhan. She learned a little about her sister yet refused important details such as her name and birthday, preferring to hear it from the little girl in person. Unfortunately, this meeting would be delayed to allow her sister to complete her school year and for her mother to finish packing. Their expected arrival in Gotham was roughly three months away, a long time for Saoirse to maintain friendly relations with her father. She wondered if her pent up anger would continue to simmer below the surface or explode without warning in a fiery display of punches eager for blood.

As she had eagerly left the residence an hour later, her father had called after her saying something along the lines of 'I knew you'd come back' wearing a knowing expression that struck anger into her very bones. To describe the rage this measly comment instilled is utterly pointless. The dictionary holds countless words synonymous with anger yet to _feel _what Saoirse experienced is something which can't be expressed with a few letters. The fury ordered her to run in an adrenaline hyped sprint, moving her legs faster than ever. The drumming blood felt like tiny people smacking their wretchedly small hands against her cranium, cheering wildly as she became light-headed and nauseous. Still she'd persevered, slowing the flat-out sprint into a manageable jog until finally, her destination had loomed in the distance. The steps were quickly mounted, the door thrown to the side and she'd burst into the dilapidated office of old man Jim. She trembled against the wall, her heart flapping like a fish out of water as her breath was quickly sought for. She registered the aged trainer looking amused, observing her over the end of large spectacles.

'I….I need you…. I need you to… to train me… for fighting. I... I want to… I _need_….' She panted, feeling her cheeks flush in a vain cool-down attempt.

'So you're finally back.' He said impassively, rising nimbly from his chair. He strolled towards her bent form, prodded her into an upright position and began inspecting her physique. 'A thanksgiving turkey has a better chance of fighting compared with you. Look at your arms! Who drained you of all your strength?' He placed a finger against her jugular, his eyebrows rising in disbelief. 'I've never seen you this aerobically challenged either. Did you decide to take up smoking?' Saoirse could only shake her head, in no mood to defend herself.

'Will you train me?' She asked, her wheezes finally subsiding.

'You're not the athlete you once were Saoirse.'

'You refuse. Of course, why should I have expected anymore?' She sighed while moving away from the peeling wall, heading for the exit.

'Saoirse, where is it that you and your fiery temper are going?' Old Man Jim asked.

'Somewhere I'm wanted.' She said through gritted teeth.

'I said you've fallen, not that you're a hopeless case.' Saoirse paused and looked carefully at the old man.

'You'll train me?'

'Fighting is something which cannot be rushed; you should know this. The next weeks are crucial for you to gain some fundamental muscle and to improve your overall agility and fitness. You need to achieve the same fitness level you had before you left this place and after you do this, you must push through to the next level. If you manage to achieve these goals and correctly follow my guidance, perhaps you'll be prepared for a fight before the end of the year. You understand I'll be needing 100% commitment from you, you'll have to adapt your work to fit with your boxing schedule, forgo lye-ins and maintain a quota of 21 hours in the gym be it this one or another. I may be an old dog, but I ain't an old fool, I know when your quota's done and when it's not.' He paused to spit impressively in a nearby bin. 'If you're not ready for that, you'll never be prepared for a fight.' Saoirse curtly nodded. 'Good. See you in here tomorrow at 6am.'

Saoirse gave an odd smile and left, knowing patronizing the old man would lead to her being barred from the gym. Before leaving, she watched angry men punch their problems into training bags and knew she belonged with them. Boxing would focus her mind and help her regain the sense of control she'd lost ever since her family reunion. She was in the mayor's pocket indefinitely; who knew how long it would take to bring down the Manhattan mafia?

She always carried her sister's picture to remind her why she'd accepted this horrendous offer. Her sick situation did indeed have an ironic silver lining; Saoirse would have remained oblivious to her sister's existence if it weren't for this sting operation. This fact coupled with her renewed passion for boxing would allow Saoirse to retain her sanity throughout the unbearable months ahead.


	25. Chapter 25

_Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud…_

The monotonous sound of her feet pounding the treadmill lulled her into a temporary stress-free trance, allowing her thoughts to float where they may. Time had stretched out like a mammoth elastic band and when she had least expected, it had snapped back into position, throwing her two and a half months into the future. The painful encounters with her father were blotted from her memory; all she'd focused on was her sister's arrival, work and boxing. Every morning she rose, ran, boxed, ate, worked, ate some more, boxed again, ate and slept. The routine was rigid and to most it would be unbearably boring yet it provided the structure which Saoirse needed to cope. Her life would have disintegrated without this rigorous routine. Even old man Jim had been taken aback by the ferocity in which she attacked her training sessions, her strength returning like a prodigal son and her fitness increasing on a daily basis. Her fitness was greatly increased by her utilising the excellent facilities offered by her work place. On the top floor with spectacular views of the city was where she took care of her aerobic needs and increased her strength. She'd finished work a little over an hour ago and was beating her favourite treadmill in an isolated corner with a perfect view of a bloody sunset. Most of the women used thy gym to be noticed by the males of the office, not wanting to become too sweaty or muscly they carried out pretend workouts much to the disgust of Saoirse. Her cheeks may flush and her breathing may be laboured but she was sculpting her inner athlete in preparation for fights both in and out of the boxing ring. She had no time for the scornful looks from her fellow female co-workers.

A beeping noise announced the end of her five mile run and after stretching, she approached the weights. Observing herself carefully in the mirror, she began different exercises until her arms ached against the strain. Her usual concentration was disturbed by a variety of men carrying equipment into the gym. Saoirse watched their reflected forms set up what seemed to be boxing equipment. A thirty-something blue-eyed, blonde-haired man with a jovial expression oversaw the procedure yet made no effort to help them. His overly whitened teeth made Saoirse's stomach squirm and as she returned her dumbbells to their home, he began to address the room.

'Greetings fellow Wayne Enterprise employees; my name is Sandy and I'm Mr Wayne's professional boxing trainer.' Saoirse paused by the water fountain to observe the unfolding situation. 'He's just informed me of his late arrival and has implored me to take this opportunity to demonstrate the fine art of boxing to those who are interested. It will also serve as a suitable warm-up for myself.' He approached a training bag, enjoying the attention he was receiving. 'Now, who would like to take a swing at this bag?' He asked in a daring voice. A few men immediately accepted the proposal and hurried towards the trainer, raising their hands eagerly. For a few minutes they tried and failed to correctly hit the training bag, their rhythm was off or their accuracy was completely non-existent. However, it wasn't these men who set Saoirse's teeth on edge, it was the trainer. Sandy was giving the most ludicrous advice to the men which hindered more than helped. When he himself took to the training bag to demonstrate his prowess, his punches were mediocre. They only seemed impressive after the inexperienced punches before. Saoirse forgot about the rest of her training and turned her entire attention towards Sandy. As more people approached him and meaningless advice continued to spew from his mouth, Saoirse managed to conclude that this trainer was of a complete amateur nature. Her theory was further cemented when a few females shyly approached him and after poorly showing them the basics, he removed his tight-fitting top revealing a set of abs which Saoirse could only classify as useless. In boxing, abdominal muscles were toned to absorb the impact of body shots from a fellow boxer. Sandy's set of vanity muscles may woo the ladies for they provided the deception that Sandy knew how to defend himself. Quite simply, he did not. This blatant use of boxing in order to impress women and make other men feel inferior made Saoirse's blood boil. If there was one thing Saoirse did not need in her life, it was more anger. Yet to see the one thing which had beautifully combatted her rage issues so horrendously tarnished before her very eyes was not something she could allow to slide. A few patient minutes later with her blood continuing to heat, Sandy invited some of the weaker men into a make-shift boxing arena for a few rounds. He easily dismantled them and made a great show of his muscles, not his punching skill. Next he invited a few females into the ring which he defeated in a very sexist manner, including giving one of them his number. Saoirse had seen enough. She approached the make-shift ring, donned the offered gloves and faced Sandy.

'Look at that powerful stance you have, you're a natural.' Saoirse sized him up and ignored the previous comment. He should know by her stance alone that this was not her first time in the ring. Sandy's words bounced off her ears as he began with a few testing punches, his teeth still gleaming. Saoirse blocked with ease before retuning some sharp punches which all landed on his vanity pumped muscles. He laughed nervously and tried landing some punches on her agile body, failing miserably. His smile disappeared as Saoirse circled the ring, her feet dancing beneath her. The gym was silent, everyone watching this unlikely fight with unflinching attention. Sandy aimed a wild punch for her head, still conducting a commentary to the crowd as if this were all a game. This was no test match, he had seriously disrespected her sport and now he would pay the price in bruises and public humiliation. Saoirse circled, parried a few blows and unleashed two right jabs and a left body shot, nicking his kidney. Sandy staggered but managed to recover, his body beginning to sweat as she locked eyes with him. He began to take her seriously but it was too late to try and make up the ground he had lost. She danced around him, all his hits going astray, nearly every one of her punches landing on target. He was tiring, his aerobic prowess as blunt as his punches. Sweat dripped from her body as well and she released a torrent of combinations, decorating every available surface with bruises while he fell back into corner, fists raised for protection. He recoiled with a surprising right jab which caught her chest, winding her slightly. He advanced as she tried to recover, ignoring the crowd, his mind bent on beating her and beating her well. His fists fell onto her body, lacking the panache of her own yet providing a clumsy damage all the same. A stray punch caught her nose, resulting in an explosion of crimson liquid and momentary dizziness. The crowd gasped as one but Saoirse took no notice. She hastily wiped the blood away, regained her breath and ducked under an average left hook, circled and caught Sandy beneath the chin. The impact jarred him for a second, his teeth crunching together. She took no prisoners, and pressed her advantage. She wanted to humiliate him, to force him to admit his mediocrity, to apologize for the disrespectful manner in which he had treated such a precious sport. Every punch was fuelled with this desire; every hit left a mark on the mediocre trainer. Saoirse waited patiently for the right opportunity, for the right moment when she would strike and her victory would be unquestionable. She ducked, and hit, circled and parried, waiting, waiting….

And there it was. The gap opened up and Saoirse was in the ideal position. Summoning all the rage which she punched on a daily basis into her training bag, she struck with a devastating left hook, catching Sandy's right eye, forcing his head to snap backwards. He was knocked out before he hit the floor. Saoirse's breath rang in her ears as she hunched victoriously over his crumpled form, making sure he wasn't going to get up any time soon. The blossoming black eye stood as testament to his unconscious state, allowing Saoirse to hesitantly look at the silent gym. All the employees of Wayne Enterprise stared back at her, some with admiration, others with fear. Yet their eyes weren't focused on her or on Sandy, they were focused on the entrance of the gym. Saoirse slowly turned and found Bruce Wayne standing impassively at the entrance, his arms folded.

'Ms Nolan, may I have a word?' He asked in a dangerously quiet voice. Saoirse knew she had no choice, she tore off her gloves and threw them beside Sandy and reluctantly followed Mr Wayne out of the gym. New aches mocked her steps yet she refused to wince, preferring to follow Mr Wayne to his office instead. Would she be fired for her conduct? She had grievously assaulted his boxing trainer…

Soon she was in his sumptuously decorated office, the bloody sunset bathing the white walls in a beautiful hue. She stood before the powerful man, feeling as if she should quit before he had a chance of firing her. She was running through possible comebacks in order to win the future argument when he startled her with a first aid kit. Saoirse frowned then immediately wished she hadn't, the muscles disturbing her engorged nose. After being told to sit, she watched as he pulled up a chair beside her and clicked open the small case. He withdrew some anti-septic wipes and approached her nose.

'What are you doing?' She asked suspiciously.

'I have to clear away the crusted blood, stem the blood flow and then apply some ice to combat the swelling. Sandy may have broken your nose.'

'But he didn't knock me out.' Saoirse muttered while Mr Wayne firmly cleaned her nose. It hurt a lot but she wasn't going to whinge in front of him. No, he wouldn't receive such satisfaction from this situation. After he finished clearing away the old blood, he held a piece of cotton to her nose and nothing was said while the blood clotted. The ice was soon applied to the bridge and Saoirse couldn't help her eyes misting from the pain.

'I'm sorry, but it's necessary.' Mr Wayne murmured. 'If you want, you can squeeze the life out of my hand?' He offered. Saoirse shook her head, a lock of hair falling from her collapsed ponytail. She was too confused by the depth of her rage, by the compulsion to humiliate Sandy and her elation from her bloody victory to notice his lingering fingers pushing the coy strand of hair behind her ear. He gently passed over the ice bag to her hand and quickly created a strong drink from the depth of his concealed globe bar. He took charge of the icepack and encouraged her to take a sip. The alcohol burned in a most unpleasant way but did its duty after a minute to numb the pain. The reduction of pain allowed the increase in wits and Saoirse finally remarked how strange it was for Bruce Wayne to be playing doctor with her.

'Why're you being so nice to me? I just demolished your boxing trainer.'

'You did viciously assault him, yet you also did me a favour by showing how poor a trainer he was. I presume that was the reason for his public humiliation?' Saoirse nodded. 'Besides, I should fire him for assaulting a Wayne Enterprise employee; he broke your nose first so you had every right to knock him out. Although I must admit, I do feel sorry for him. I've been on the receiving end of that left hook and it is quite a shocking experience.' He allowed a grin to split his handsome face yet this did nothing to soothe Saoirse's uneasiness. She wanted to put some distance between them, she was feeling vulnerable and did not want to be near the manipulative playboy.

'I think I'm feeling much better Mr Wayne.' Saoirse muttered, once again taking control of the icepack on her nose.

'I'm glad to hear it, for I have an interesting proposition for you.'

It took a serious amount of self-restraint for Saoirse to stifle a groan. 'And what proposition is it which may pique my interest?' She asked.

'After that fight, it's pretty obvious you have some experience with boxing. I must admit I never realised boxing was your dominant form of exercise yet this clearly isn't the case. However, I liked your style. Quick, agile yet with blistering strength, a very classy demeanour. My proposition is simple. I would be very interested in employing you as my trainer.'

'Sorry Mr Wayne, I think I must be concussed. You s_urely _couldn't have requested that I, being an amateur boxer as I'm sure you understand, should be your trainer?'

'No, you're not concussed. That was a very accurate summarisation.'

'You're joking.'

'No, I'm being perfectly serious.'

'Why would I ever agree to spend one on one time with you after the horrendous violation of privacy which happened last time?' She hissed.

'Ah you refer to the massage. I am sorry for pushing the boundaries there yet you must admit; I did a remarkable job with the tension between your shoulders.'

'That's beside the point!' Saoirse blustered.

'As to why you should train me, well there are a number of ways you would be rewarded for your time. Quadruple overtime, company car, invitations to any movie premiers or other high sociable events which may interest you –'

'Stop trying to bribe me! I don't care about you playing masseuse or what other benefits you would try to tempt me with! Understand Mr Wayne, I adore boxing. I love every single aspect of the game. The beauty in its violent exchanges, the tension in the crowd, the psychological fight burning just as hard as the punches themselves. You trying to use me as a trainer would only diminish my view on the sport. And I cannot allow that to happen.' Saoirse finished in a whisper. Mr Wayne looked at her with a certain respect before nodding thoughtfully.

'I'm trying to bribe you because I want a trainer who loves boxing as much as you.' He said simply. 'In return for your time, instead of all the previous promises, how about I share knowledge with you of something which is very dear to me?'

'And what might that be?'

'Martial arts.' He said seriously.

'Are you saying I teach you how to box and you'll show me some Kung Fu?' Saoirse asked sarcastically.

'If Kung Fu interests you. Perhaps Karate, self-defence, or the art of being a ninja may be more suited to you.'

'You're being serious.' Saoirse said in amazement.

'Yes.'

'Are you a ninja?' She asked, trying very hard to keep a straight face.

'Come to Wayne Mansion this Saturday and you'll find out.' He replied. Saoirse knew she was being completely idiotic but nonetheless, her decision was made.

'Alright, I'll see you then. Student.'

He just gave her a lazy smirk in response.


	26. Chapter 26

'I'm surprised you think this is a good idea.' Saoirse said, lounging against the door of old man Jim's office.

'Training someone is an excellent way to figure out your own weaknesses.' Jim replied.

'But I've never trained anyone before, I've no idea what I should be doing, what sort of lesson plan I should create –'

'Lesson plan? Saoirse you're training Bruce Wayne, not the next George Foreman. Take him through your normal routine and spar with him in a similar manner to our own training. You were hoping I'd provide an excuse to avoid this session yet I'm afraid to say, I have none to offer.' Saoirse picked at her nails, wishing she hadn't accepted Mr Wayne's ludicrous suggestion. 'If you're so desperate to reject him as your student, why did you initially accept his proposition?'

'I wanted to find out why he wanted a trainer with no experience. And he also mentioned teaching me Kung Fu…' She responded with a shrug.

'Martial arts? How will that further your boxing career?'

'It may come in handy if I find myself cage-fighting…'

'Don't think you'll find a welcome here if you become interested in mixed martial arts.' He spat, his normally pale face colouring dramatically. It was common knowledge the old man detested mixed martial arts describing the fighters as "brutes" and "savages" unworthy to remain in civilised society. He replaced his glasses and peered at the accounts scattered across his desk, signalling the end of their conversation. Saoirse nodded before leaving the office and headed home, wondering why the old man couldn't grasp the thrill of an MMA fight.

* * *

Wayne Manor soared upwards in a majestic display of stunning architecture, the bricks spiralling out of sight in elegant shapes and the highly polished glass glittering in the early light. Saoirse soaked in the grandeur for a moment before finally knocking on the door, setting off what felt like two gremlins playing squash in her stomach. A few seconds later a friendly face immediately set her nerves at ease, his face splitting into a welcoming smile.

'Ms Nolan, what a pleasure to see you back at Wayne Manor.' Alfred said, beckoning her into the luxurious interior.

'I was hoping I'd run into you Alfred.' Saoirse replied. Their small talk echoed around the entrance hall, Alfred's formal yet caring manner allowed Saoirse to feel at ease, a state which had eluded her these past few months. She was pleasantly surprised by the affection she felt for the elderly butler considering the small amount of time they had spent together. Perhaps when she'd finished training Mr Wayne, she could challenge him to another game of chess…

'Here we are Ms Nolan; Master Wayne awaits.' Alfred said, showing her into the converted gymnasium before closing the door. Unlike the butler's prediction, Mr Wayne was nowhere in sight, leaving the room open for her inspection. She dumped her sports bag near the door and surveyed a typical billionaire's gymnasium. The machines were of the highest standard, there was a sauna, steam room, Jacuzzi and there, erected in the middle of the gym, was a full size boxing ring. Saoirse nimbly ascended the ropes, her boxing gloves swinging wildly around her neck. Boxing equipment was meticulously laid out, gloves, trainers, training bags, trunks, skipping ropes… Saoirse's gloves looked decidedly tatty next to the gleaming red pair on display.

'Do you like what I've done with the place?' Saoirse's head snapped up; startled by Mr Wayne's quiet entrance.

'It's suitably equipped for a small town yet also satisfies the ego of a billionaire playboy.' Saoirse muttered, slightly distracted by his casual appearance. She'd only seen him clothed in a sharp suit or an equally expensive (yet not as flattering) dressing gown. The snug fitting t-shirt and black sweat pants highlighted a remarkably muscled physique which Armani had expertly concealed from the business world. It remained to be seen if these muscles were of the beneficial or vanity type (as demonstrated by his former trainer, Sandy). Saoirse sat at the edge of the boxing ring, her arms dangling over the ropes.

'You don't seem eager to begin training.' Mr Wayne said while approaching.

'That's because this doesn't make any sense.' Saoirse replied.

'I agree; a woman training a man is a ludicrous notion.'

'What's your angle?' Saoirse pressed, ignoring his jibe.

'Angle?'

'Yes, you _always_ have an ulterior motive.'

'Do I really?'

'Yes.'

'I had no idea…'

'I'm happy to have enlightened you.'

'You don't seem very happy.'

'I'm clearly ecstatic.'

'I apologise for misinterpreting your feelings. Forgive me?'

'Mr Wayne –'

'Please; call me Bruce.'

'You're my boss, so therefore your name should be Mr Wayne –'

'Yes, but I prefer Bruce.'

'Alright.' Saoirse said reluctantly. 'Bruce you always have some sort of test –'

'Wait, does this mean I call you Saoirse or shall I continue with Ms Nolan?'

'Whichever takes your fancy.' Saoirse muttered, her temper beginning to rise.

'Yes. However, seeing as you've humoured _my _fancy I would be grateful if you allowed me to indulge yours.'

'I. Don't. Mind.' Saoirse said through gritted teeth.

'Yet you must have a preference?'

'Not really.'

'Just pick one: Ms Nolan or Saoirse.'

'Fine, I choose Ms Nolan.'

'… would you mind if I called you Saoirse?' Her short temper snapped and she jumped to her feet.

'Bruce! I don't care what you call me, all I'm interested in is why the bloody hell you want someone with no training experience to teach you boxing!' Saoirse yelled, her voice echoing around the carnivorous gym. Bruce folded his arms, looking completely impassive.

'That's why.' He said.

'What is?' Saoirse cried exasperatedly, her arms spread around her.

'You're angry.'

'I'm irritated, not angry!'

'These past few months you've been angrier than usual.' He accused.

'No I haven't –'

'Don't think it's gone unnoticed.'

'You're being ridiculous Mr Wayne –'

'Saoirse please, you're smart enough to remember our previous agreement about calling me Bruce.'

'I fail to understand the link between my fictitious anger and your training _Bruce_.'

'I'm disappointed Saoirse, I expected you to be sharper than this.'

'I apologise profusely.' She spat.

'Well if it's beyond your deduction skills, I suppose I can shed some light on your confusion. I do have an ulterior motive concerning these cosy boxing sessions.'

'I can't wait to hear this.'

'On the surface, these lessons appear to improve my boxing talent through your tuition. Yet if you were to dig a little deeper, you would find these classes have more in common with anger management sessions.'

'A-Anger management?' She seethed.

'To help you combat your rage issues.' He said with a shrug.

'…Rage issues?'

'Must you always repeat what I say?' He asked lazily, threatening to ignite her short temper once more.

'Are you sending me to a counsellor?' Saoirse asked, finding it difficult to keep her voice steady.

'Of course not, I wouldn't want to jeopardize their safety if you were to lose control and turn violent.'

'How _dare_ you talk about me as if I'm a landmine, waiting to explode –'

'Oh I'm not waiting, you already blew up.'

'_When _exactly?'

'A few days ago when you decided to publically humiliate and physically assault my trainer. Does that strike you as socially acceptable behaviour Saoirse?'

'He almost broke my nose!'

'Regardless, all you wanted was to pound him into the ground.'

'That's _not _true –'

'Until you face what is making you angry, you'll be at the mercy of your own wrath for the rest of your life.' All traces of amusement were wiped from his face, leaving a sombre expression behind.

'Oh I see; you're going to play psychologist and figure out why I have this pent-up aggression – which by the way – does _not_ exist.'

'It's not your rage which irritates me; it's the amateur way in which you conceal it.'

'So you're planning to teach me the fine art of caging my emotions behind a pleasant façade?'

'_Finally;_ we're on the same page.' Saoirse stared at Bruce Wayne in disbelief, unable to process what he'd just said. 'Are you alright Saoirse? You look a little pale…' He peered up through the ropes, his expression quizzical yet steely nonetheless. Her shock wore off and her pounding blood demanded action.

'I'm leaving.' She said stiffly, clambering out of the boxing ring and striding towards the door, her boxing gloves swinging dangerously.

'I know anger Saoirse, the way it enters your bones and makes you want to destroy the world.' He called after her. She paused and threw her gloves to the ground, allowing the anger to spread deliciously through her body. Feeling close to invincible, she rounded on the sombre Prince of Gotham.

'How could you know anything about anger Bruce? You were choking on a silver spoon when you were born and whatever you wanted always fell into your lap! In your life, no-one has ever wronged you to such an extent that your entire being resonated with this suffocating fury.' Saoirse hissed, her eyes glittering maliciously. The muscles of Bruce's face didn't move yet his facial expression darkened nonetheless.

'I'venever understood what it is to suffer from unyielding anger?' He whispered in a haunting tone. 'Perhaps you've forgotten Saoirse that I am an orphan as much as I am a billionaire. I'll admit, in my life I have never wanted for material items, yet all I have ever desired was ripped from me when I was eight years old. You think witnessing my parents' murder ignited no wrath, no excruciating desire for revenge?' Saoirse couldn't answer him such was the power in his voice. 'You write me off as someone burning both ends of the candle, partying too hard, drinking too much; dating too many women... you wrongly presume I fell into this lifestyle by accident. Wouldn't you agree adopting the façade of an irresponsible rich boy would be more agreeable compared with that of a cold-blooded killer?' His usually vacant eyes spiralled down into unchartered depths, hinting at a character which he allowed no-one but his reflection to see. He'd deliberately allowed his undetected mask to slip, momentarily revealing a pit of anger surpassing even hers. The effect was devastating, sending Saoirse reeling. Her sympathy was suffocated by the burning shame originating from failing to notice his painful burden. She'd been so absorbed with her own problems; concerns of other people had become completely irrelevant. No relief presented itself upon discovering someone else carrying the same load which weighed so heavily on her heart. Words were useless. How could she articulate her sorrow with conversation? Assembling a few phrases would be horrendously unsuccessful in conveying her shame. Yet she had to do something, remaining silent wasn't an option.

She approached Bruce, swallowed the lump in her throat and did her best to find her voice. Upon failing, she awkwardly took one of his hands in hers and gave it a light squeeze. He frowned but didn't pull his hand away, watching curiously as her gaze fell to his nimble yet strong fingers. 'I'm _always _angry.' She confessed to his knuckles, her misted eyes bravely returning to his deep gaze.

'I know.' He murmured.

'Can you help?'

'Only if you truly desire the support I offer.'

'Can't I solve this on my own?'

'It's highly unlikely; I only have to point to previous months to support my theory.'

She dropped his hand and folded her arms. 'Why do you want to help me?' She asked suspiciously.

'I want to provide aid because I believe I'm in a position tohelp you.' He replied simply. Normally she would have classified this answer as grade A bullshit. Now she wasn't so sure. All previous judgements of Bruce Wayne needed to be scrutinised and re-evaluated.

'Where should we go from here?' She asked uncertainly.

'You have a choice to make. Option one; you could leave, think this conversation over and decide whether to accept my help or not. Option two; you accept my help and we begin immediately.' Saoirse glanced at the door, a need to think things over sounding more appealing by the second. Yet that option remained within her comfort-zone and if she wanted to combat her anger, she would have to be ready to leave her sanctuary. As she looked at Bruce, a small voice proclaimed with remarkable certainty that this wasn't one of his elaborate schemes, he would remain true to his proposal and would do his best to help her. How her opinion of him had changed over the past few minutes!

'I'll stay,' She muttered, picking up her boxing gloves and replacing them around her neck.

'I'm glad to see you're taking this seriously.' He said while nodding in approval. Saoirse managed the ghost of a smile before ascending the ropes and jumping into the ring.

'So… where do we begin?' She asked.

'Oh, we already have.' Bruce replied.

'How?'

'You admitted you had a problem. Now that the hardest part is over, we can focus on your recovery.'

'You sound so assured...'

'You shouldn't be so doubtful of yourself Saoirse; you're much stronger than you appreciate.'

'Before we start, you need to know something.'

'What?'

'Bruce… I can't tell you the root cause of my anger.'

He just smiled. 'As I said before, I'm more interested in you managing your anger, not sitting you on a sofa and asking about your childhood. Now I don't know about you, but I would dearly love to stop talking and start punching all this new stuff I bought.' He rubbed the palms of his hands together, his playboy façade returned. As he joined her in the ring, Saoirse ignored the unsettling feeling that she'd imagined the surprising depth she'd discovered from a character previously classified as shallow.


	27. Chapter 27

Apart from a few colourful curses, words couldn't describe the emotions eddying in Saoirse's gut. Yet if she were to make an attempt, it would run something like this: A goblin viciously fought a dwarf in a battle of epic proportions, the two polar emotions using Saoirse's stomach as their battlefield. Blood was shed on many an occasion as they wielded powerful weapons and spells, but neither passion gained the advantage over its opposing sentiment. Their reason for warring was simple; today was the day where Saoirse would meet her sister for the first time. As soon as she'd arrived at her father's house, her fury and excitement had turned on each-other, providing a mesh of emotions which would've dumbfounded most psychologists. She nervously chewed the side of her thumb while her mind created various scenarios of the possible interaction, only adding to her overwhelming anxiety.

'Your mother's just pulled up.' Her father muttered; tweaking the expensive curtains closed. Saoirse started from her tense reverie and tried to concentrate on the task in hand. She ignored the man she was unfortunately related to and focused on holding onto her lunch which if the goblin and dwarf had their way, would make a quick and messy escape. The front door opened and Saoirse felt light-headed upon hearing the light tread of who could only be her little sister. Her mother, Gloria, strode into the living room and promptly burst into tears as she flung her arms around her eldest daughter. Saoirse reluctantly returned the wet embrace and resisted the urge to shove Gloria aside to greet the special little girl. After what felt like hours, her mother returned to the hallway and tugged Saoirse's sister into the living room. The child boldly approached and Saoirse found herself hypnotised by the blue eyes which peered up through ginger tresses.

'Are you my older sister?' The little girl asked to which Saoirse could only reply with a stupefied nod. 'I'm Caoimhe Conlon, spelt C-A-O-I-M-H-E and pronounced as Queva. I'm eight and a half years old. What's your name?' Caoimhe. Her little sister was called Caoimhe. Saoirse smiled helplessly, completely charmed by the confidence which only a child could possess. It was so nice to finally put a name to the familiar face.

'My name is –'

'This is your older sister; Siobhan.' Her father interrupted, sending her a warning glare when she began to protest. Saoirse replaced a scintillating insult with a shrug and returned her attention to Caoimhe.

'Nice to meet you Siobhan.' Caoimhe replied, reaching out and gently shaking her hand. It was only after their hands touched did Saoirse understand how important it had been to remain patient these past three months. As their handshake splintered apart, she was convinced she was her own flesh and blood as the same stirring sensation which occurred upon first seeing Caoimhe's picture reappeared in Saoirse's breast.

'I'm so happy to finally meet you.' She managed to croak. The smile which split her little sister's face was warm enough to melt the polar caps and cause apocalyptic floods. Yet Saoirse recognised the slight tension around the curve of Caoimhe's lips, she herself had been forced to master the art of smiling from a young age. The goblin and dwarf were struck with grief by the sorrowful sight. The goblin recovered first, encouraging Saoirse's anger to boil at the damage which her parents had inflicted upon the innocent creature. Suppressed memories of her own childhood began tapping against her skull, reminding her that it was of paramount importance to rescue Caoimhe from the Conlon household. Yet the affectionate dwarf rallied once more and swung his great axe at the goblin, quickly soothing the ignited fury. Intoxicated by the sudden fondness for Caoimhe resulted in Saoirse vowing to free her from the incarceration of the Conlon household, a fate no child should ever be subjected to.

The next hour was a beastly clash between the dwarf and goblin, ascending the peaks of ecstasy when the dwarf gained the upper hand and dropping into the pits of despair when the goblin furiously counter-attacked. Saoirse was emotionally exhausted when it was time to leave yet she felt reluctant to go. She'd missed eight and a half years of her sister's life and was impatient to make up the lost time. As she eventually left the house with Caoimhe enthusiastically waving from the porch, a sudden helplessness consumed her. She sat in the car and contemplated the difficult oath she'd sworn to her sister. Freeing Caoimhe from the suffocating Conlon household would only be achieved by her co-operation with the Gotham police. They had remained worryingly relaxed over the past few months, only calling her in once every few weeks. Now that her sister had arrived and the Manhattan mafia had finally transferred a sizeable portion of its business to Gotham, they would apply more pressure on her as their primary informant. It seemed the only solution to this mess would be to gain information on her father's family business, give it to the police, pray a conviction stuck and win the custody battle for her little sister. Until she gleaned said information, dreams of whisking Caoimhe away would have to be put on hold.

She drove away from her little sister, feeling an invisible thread connecting the two of them which would remain intact regardless of how many miles separated them. This bond had been cemented by their first meeting and Saoirse felt certain that no-one could undo it. The posh housing estate soon gave way to open road which lay mostly empty after the rush hour traffic. Streetlights flicked past with increasing speed as Saoirse's foot toyed with the accelerator. She flicked the stereo on, the heavy bass soothed her depressed thoughts as the car consumed the smooth tarmac at a dizzying pace, the concoction of speed and music providing the perfect antidote to the stressful visit. She increased the volume and shifted up a gear, the air vibrating with the sweet cadences. She felt a beautiful calm steal through her, allowing the sheer happiness of meeting her sister to crush any doubts about the future. She would have to thank Bruce the next time she saw him for it was his idea to combine music and driving to combat her rage. She felt strangely relaxed as she drank in the delicious night of Gotham City, the evening breeze toying with her hair as it entered via the open window. The dial on her dash continued to rise, leaving the speed limit a forgotten authority…

Her reverie was abruptly halted when red and blue lights flashed in her rear view mirror. She cursed quietly before switching off the music and carefully pulling onto the hard shoulder. Less than a minute later, the police officer sharply rapped on the glass and she reluctantly rolled down the window. 'Licence and registration.' He barked. Saoirse uttered an oath as she rummaged around the glove compartment looking for said documents. She had no clue where her registration was stored as she wasn't used to being pulled over by the police. Surely they hadn't fallen beneath the seat…? 'Ma'am, do you have any idea how fast you were driving?' The officer asked as she continued her fruitless search. She could have sworn the papers were nestled behind her stack of CD's…

'I'll be honest officer and say I had other things on my mind.' Saoirse replied, now checking beneath the passenger seat, her fingers brushing over objects which were best to be left undisturbed.

'You were doing 157 km/h in a 120 zone.' He said. Saoirse paused for a second, realising this was going to be an expensive speeding ticket with a possible court appearance. Perhaps she could flirt her way out of it? She remembered Lisbeth managing it before and decided she might give it a shot. Her logic behind the insane decision was simple: the Police were giving her enough trouble as it was; she deserved to get out of this measly speeding ticket! After discreetly undoing some buttons of her shirt, she eventually found the correct papers and handed them to the officer, making sure to flick her hair in the process. However, his outstretched hand didn't accept the offered documents and when she peered at his shadowed face, she realised why.

'O-Officer Blake?' Saoirse managed to stutter, all thoughts of flirtation violently squashed. This sort of tactic would fail to work on the sharpest officer in Gotham City.

'It _is _you.' Officer Blake replied, finally taking her documents. 'Saoirse Nolan… It's strange isn't it?'

'What is?'

'I know for a fact that's not your real name yet I can't arrest you for it.'

'True… Was I really going that fast?' She asked in a defeated voice.

'Yes you were though I have to admit, you speed to the right kind of music.' He sighed while rifling through her documents and entering details onto his handheld. 'Now the moment of truth; what I should do with you.'

'Well, what does the law dictate?'

'As a police officer; I am the law. And the law says you've forgotten to tie some buttons on your shirt.' Officer Blake replied; nodding towards Saoirse's exposed chest. Her face exploded upon realising she'd been unable to make herself decent after abandoning her hastily made flirtation plan. She fumbled with the buttons and tried to supress her embarrassment, hoping he wouldn't catch on.

'So, how much is my ticket going to be?' Saoirse hurriedly asked.

'It'll cost you a pretty penny I'm afraid. However, I must commend you on owning up to the offence, most women I pull over try to flirt their way out of the consequences –' He paused, his eyes lingering on Saoirse's recently buttoned shirt. 'Wait… were you attempting to flirt your way out of a ticket?'

'_No_.' Saoirse said, trying to look shocked by the accusation.

'You _were_.'

'When in our last conversation did I try to avoid paying my ticket?' Saoirse asked, loving when logic was on her side.

'True, you didn't try to weasel your way out of it…'

'And did our conversation have flirting of any description?' Saoirse asked, amazed at her boldness.

'No, no it did not.' Officer Blake replied with a shy smile.

'Well there you have it; I'm just a girl who likes showing off her chest!' Saoirse declared triumphantly, slightly miffed at declaring her false love of low cut tops.

'And that thankfully is _not _illegal.' Officer Blake smiled while handing back her documents. He frowned before continuing the conversation. 'Yet if you love low-cut tops… why did you blush and immediately re-button your shirt?' He asked curiously.

'B-Because I wanted to look d-decent in front of an officer of the law?' Saoirse weakly offered.

'Bull_shit_. I see what your plan was… initially you weregoing to flirt your way out of the ticket but upon recognising me, you quickly aborted!'

'Officer _please_ –'

'Ms Nolan, you've already insulted my pride, please don't ridicule my intelligence as well.'

'Officer Blake –'

'Yet what I can't figure out is _why_ you would abandon your plan…'

'How was I going to pull the wool over the eyes of the sharpest cop in Gotham?' Saoirse asked incredulously.

'So you admit it!' Officer Blake cried triumphantly.

'Fine! I admit I didn't ooze compliments about your dark eyes or how I like a man in uniform in order to avoid paying this stupid ticket! Send me to the electric chair; Saoirse Nolan has confessed it all!' Her cheeks were flushed and she felt completely ridiculous. As long as she lived, she would never, _ever_ attempt to woo a cop. Facing the consequences was less humiliating.

'Ms Nolan, please step out of the car.'

'What? Why –?

'Ms Nolan, just do as I ask.' Saoirse complied with his instructions. 'I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you down to the stations Ms Nolan.' Officer Blake continued.

'The station? Holy dragon-slaying Ghandi, I was s_peeding, _not going on a killing rampage!'

'I'm completely aware of that Ms Nolan, yet this isn't the reason you're wanted down at the station.'

'Then _why_?'

'Officers in the surrounding area have been ordered to pull over your car and immediately escort you to the Police Station. I believe it's to do with your witness protection.' He added.

'My witness protection…' It seemed she'd been right about the police turning up the pressure on their lead informant.

'Apparently the mayor is pretty keen to talk with you.'

'If I did a strip tease for you, right here, right now, would you let me go home?' Saoirse asked hopelessly.

'I'd welcome the distraction Ms Nolan, but we both know where your journey ends tonight.' Saoirse nodded glumly and followed Officer Blake back to his car, nervous about her meeting with the mayor.


	28. Chapter 28

Upon entering Officer Blake's car, Saoirse was greeted by a terrifying Alsatian growling through the caged backseat. She froze at the passenger door, unsure of entering.

'Buster; quiet.' Officer Blake commanded and the dog instantly ceased growling. 'To put a clichéd saying into effect; his bark is worse than his bite… unless I set him on you.' He said with a reassuring smile. Saoirse nodded uncertainly before clambering into the car, horribly aware of the canine salivating behind her ears.

'What's going to happen to my car?' She asked as they pulled away from the hard shoulder.

'I've already called someone to pick it up.'

'Wouldn't it have been easier if I just followed your cruiser?'

'I wouldn't trust you to do that.'

'Why?'

'You strike me as a bailer.'

'A bailer?'

'You know; someone who would try their hand at escaping.' He flicked on the wipers as rain began to hound his windscreen.

'Escaping is of no use to me.' Saoirse muttered darkly. She quickly turned her attention to Buster. 'How long have you had him?'

'Year and a half, he's smarter than most of the drug dealers he books.'

'He's a sniffer?'

'The best; ain't that right boy?' Officer Blake changed his tone of voice, causing Buster to yelp in a manner which can only be described as affectionate.

'Where did you get him?'

'There's this cranky old lady who breeds Gotham's sniffer dogs. They're the sharpest dogs you'll find. Once they reach 8 weeks, the best are taken to be trained.'

'And where's that?'

'There's an entire wing in headquarters dedicated to these sniffer dogs.'

'It's _in_ the police headquarters?'

'Yes ma'am. They even take a few young strays which they believe have potential…'

'I bet that's something to see…' Saoirse murmured while looking at Buster with new-found respect.

'It's not exactly open to the public… but if you want, I could show you around some time? That's if you don't get arrested after this meeting.'

'If I get arrested, I'm blaming you for tempting fate.' She said while feeding Buster a treat through the bars.

'With a defence like that, the court will obviously overrule any charges.'

'Obviously.' Saoirse said with the ghost of a smile.

A few minutes later Officer Blake drove past police headquarters and continued towards the Narrows, Gotham's infamous underbelly.

'Where are we going?' Saoirse asked suspiciously, waiting for Officer Blake to pull over.

'Apparently bringing you to headquarters is too risky these days, the mayor has set up a suitable meeting place just a few minutes away.' Ice crept into Saoirse's veins upon hearing this; it could only mean the sting operation was being stepped up a notch. Her nerves weren't helped by Officer Blake locking the car doors as they paused at a set of traffic lights. Even Buster was still, his ears cocked for any unusual noises, his gaze locked on the rear window.

'Almost there.' Officer Blake muttered, checking his rear view mirror for any followers. There was nothing but the oppressive darkness which housed Gotham's criminal activity. Officer Blake drove into an abandoned car park and halted in front of some rusty stairs. He withdrew his gun from his belt and peered out into the gloom.

'What's that for?' Saoirse tried to mask her alarm.

'Protection; this is the narrows after all. C'mon, let's go.' Soon they were creeping up the rusted steps, Saoirse feeling somewhat comforted by Buster's presence. After a few flights they explored a long corridor with flickering lights and eventually, Officer Blake knocked on one of the doors. Some scrambling was audible from behind it and Saoirse's skin prickled as she felt someone peering through the peep hole at them. The door was roughly yanked open and Saoirse felt some relief to see Commissioner Gordon on the other side.

'You brought her here safely. Good. We'll take it from here; Blake.' He curtly nodded towards the sharp officer and hurried Saoirse indoors. 'Sorry for all the secrecy, but we've finally managed to set up this place. This way.' He hurried down a damp looking hallway which ended in an astonishingly slick looking office. All five men paused upon Saoirse entering the secret room.

'Is that her?' One of the men asked, sporting an impressive moustache.

'Who are these people?' Saoirse asked, only recognising Sergeant Jackson. Fortunately, Lieutenant Briggs was nowhere in sight.

'My finest men.' The commissioner said proudly. After a quick introduction, Gordon sat her down at a table boasting an array of gadgets which wouldn't look out of place in the Applied Science department. 'Now as you've probably gathered, this investigation has finally gathered some speed. And as our primary informant, this means the pressure is going to increase on you. Are you up for the task?' A mental image of Caoimhe was all the motivation Saoirse needed to nod. 'Let's get you some accessories.'

After an hour of fiddling, pinching and heated arguments, Saoirse was ready to begin gathering intelligence on her father. The equipment she wore was well concealed, up to date and conveyed all data she gathered back to the office's computer. Once equipped, a strange silence fell over the sombre men. This was probably their life changing case, the one which would accelerate their careers beyond their wildest dreams or bring them crashing around their ears. It was a little overwhelming when Saoirse thought of all which rested on her shoulders yet she had to handle it. She didn't have a choice.

The Commissioner eventually walked her back to the door with pieces of advice which fell upon deaf ears. She only caught his last tip which was probably the least helpful. 'You be careful now.' The Commissioner said with a fatherly smile as he opened the door. She could tell from the painful creases around his eyes that he didn't agree with this strategy yet knew his hands were tied by the justice system. It was enough that he didn't agree with this situation to justify the respect she still held for him.

As the door closed behind, Saoirse was surprised to find Officer Blake waiting for her, Buster wagging his tail at his side. He smiled while catching her startled expression.

'You thought they'd make you walk home?'

* * *

Thud. Thud. Thud. Bang. Bang. Bang. Thud. Bang. Thud. Bang. Thud. Bang.

'What's your worst memory?'

Saoirse stumbled in her combination. 'What?' She managed to gasp, sweat glazing her flushed cheeks.

'Your worst memory. What is it?'

'What has that got to do with anything Bruce?' Saoirse moaned while leaning heavily against the wall, her fringe falling pathetically into her eyes.

'Because that may be the key to your anger… I know that was the case for me.' He finished quietly.

'Well not everyone's problems can be solved by your solution Bruce.' Saoirse said while slicking her fringe against her skull. 'Oh and thanks a bunch for that tip about combining driving with music to sooth my anger, I got pulled over by a cop for speeding!'

'Really? Your record never showed a speeding ticket… Perhaps you flirted your way out of being booked?' Bruce asked, looking mildly impressed.

'How do you have access to my permanent record!?' Saoirse asked, completely outraged.

'Saoirse please, I have a man such as Lucius Fox in my employment.'

'That's no excuse!'

'What do you want me to say, that I'll never do it again? Saoirse be reasonable, you know it's important that I keep up to date on the criminal activity of my employees.'

'You know what my worst memory is Bruce?'

'What?'

'Meeting you.' She spat. He took a swig of water and casually observed her, rare amusement twinkling in his eyes.

'Is it that bad?' He asked quietly as his eyes quickly fell into serious oblivion.

'Is what that bad?' She snapped, still irritated by his blatant breach of her rights.

'Your worst memory.'

'You want to know my worst memory Bruce?'

'I think it would help me to help you.'

'Fine, here it is! My father told me when I was little that the music played by an ice cream truck meant there was no ice cream left in the van.' Oddly enough, Saoirse was speaking the truth though this was a minor stain compared to the huge blemishes her past contained.

'On all accounts that was cruel, but stop playing games with me Saoirse, I know that's not your worst memory.' A small yet very influential part of Saoirse was screaming for release. She found the words resting in the back of her throat, the ones saying 'I watched my father kill three innocent men' burning to be spoken. Yet upon meeting Bruce's dark eyes, her courage and stupidity failed. She couldn't risk her sister's safety and Gotham's police investigation for her own selfish purposes! That memory would remain in her breast and hers alone.

She instead found herself recalling a memory which she had long supressed due to its disturbing nature which she knew would satisfy Bruce's question.

'You don't need to feel afraid, I won't judge you.' He said coaxingly, his manipulation of the English language as powerful as ever.

'Alright…' She cleared her throat and began. 'When I went to secondary school, I had to walk half a mile from my bus stop to reach home. I was about a month into my first year and I remember the weather was curiously warm for September… Anyway, I was walking home and I hear this disturbance in an alleyway which I ignored until it happened again. So being a naïve and curious child, I went over to investigate. Beneath one of these dumpsters was a little puppy, small enough to fit into one of your hands, with a pure black coat and a cut on his left ear. At the time I had grand aspirations of becoming a vet and I decided that this puppy should be my first patient.' She paused for a moment, fidgeting with her fingers. 'My father didn't allow pets in the house; he called them trained vermin and had made it clear I would never have one. But I was a foolish and determined child so I snuck the puppy home and christened him Casper. For three weeks I was victorious, successfully hiding Casper from my father with the help of my loving housekeeper. Those three weeks were spectacular; I actually looked forward to coming home…'

'What happened after the third week?' Bruce asked gently.

'My father found him.' She whispered, the lump in her throat threatening to cut off her voice. 'I came home from school to find him and Casper waiting for me. He actually had him perched on his lap and for one gleaming second, I thought he'd softened towards the idea.' She swallowed painfully. 'He dragged me out to the garden and held Casper by the scruff of his neck. He told me about how outrageous it was that I had brought such scum into the house and that I needed to be punished for my heinous crime. My housekeeper came out at that point and tried to defend me but he simply fended her off. He said that I needed to man up and face the consequences of my actions. I remember desperately trying to get Casper back but I wasn't strong enough, I was completely overpowered. He approached one of the barrels in the backyard which had filled with rainwater and dropped the puppy inside. Casper's instincts kicked in and he began to doggy paddle in circles, trying to climb out. I tried to rescue him over and over but eventually my father, the bastard that he is, grabbed Casper by the scruff of his neck and with the cruellest of smiles, held his little thrashing body beneath the water.' She hastily glanced down to conceal her tear filled eyes. 'Within a minute, it was over.' She confessed to the floor. The tears were unstoppable and Saoirse quickly searched for something to wipe her running nose with.

'Here, use this' Bruce produced a box of tissues from seemingly nowhere. She hurriedly wiped her eyes and blew her nose before smiling weakly at him.

'Well, you wanted to know. Now you do.' She muttered, not wanting to acknowledge the uncomfortably pitying look Bruce was wearing. 'Gosh is that the time? I should get changed and out of your hair.' Saoirse dashed around, flinging her boxing gloves into her sports bag and quickly exiting the gym, ignoring Bruce's attempts to call her back. One icy shower and a change of clothes later, Saoirse was dashing towards the entrance of Wayne Manor, her hair dripping onto her t-shirt. Her stomach sank as she realised Bruce was standing in Alfred's usual spot, his expression determined.

'Bruce, I really need to –'

'No you don't.' He cut in smoothly. 'Come, I want to show you something.'

'And what if I say no?' Saoirse asked in a daring voice.

'You and I both agreed that these sessions would lack gooey, chick-flick emotional interactions. I accept that and don't plan to change it. What I want to show you is actually something more work related. However, in that time if you feel the need to voice your feelings on the topic we last spoke on, I would hold no objections.'

'Fair enough.' Saoirse allowed while following Bruce through a door she'd never noticed. After passing through some sumptuously decorated entertainment rooms, Bruce keyed in a code and a large metal door swung open. All that lay ahead was inky darkness.

'Not scared of the dark are we?' He challenged. Saoirse ignored him and stepped through the door first, fumbling around in the pitch black. She started when the metal door swung shut, leaving her floundering for a second. Bruce, some feet to her left, clapped his hands, provoking the lights to turn on. Saoirse's jaw dropped as an impressive array of vehicles materialized. She was standing in the famous Wayne Manor garage and was surrounded by priceless models of limited edition cars. 'Like what I've done with the place?' Bruce asked, casually sitting on the bonnet of a vintage Ferrari.

'Do you want me to become your mechanic?' Saoirse ventured, unsure why she was being shown the beautiful assortment of cars.

'You're not far wrong.' Bruce allowed while abandoning his expensive chair and walking down the centre of the mammoth garage. 'This way Saoirse.' He called, not waiting for her to catch up. The vintage cars soon gave way to modern sports cars which in turn gave way to motor bikes. Bruce approached a fine specimen which was on its own platform, waiting to be ogled.

'Is that the new MV Agusta F4? The RR312?' She gasped.

'So you do have an interest in bikes.'

'This is barely road legal! It has a top speed of 193 miles an hour and an incredible brake horsepower of 190!'

However, the front of the bike was badly damaged with an array of wires sticking out dangerously. 'She's one of my personal favourites but as you can see, she's been roughed up. I was in a bit of an accident over the weekend; I'm amazed it didn't reach the papers; probably because I wasn't badly injured… Anyway, do you think there's anything you can do to fix her?' Saoirse circled the bike a few times; unsure if this was within her power to repair.

'I'm not a mechanic Bruce.'

'But you did minor in mechanical engineering.'

'Minor, not major. There's a significant difference.'

'If you fix her, you can keep her.' Bruce offered; a dangerous glint in his eye.

'Bruce don't be ridiculous, this bike is over twenty grand!'

'Then it's more than enough incentive for you to fix her.' He said with a smile.

'Fine, I'll give her a look over. But I can't promise anything.' Saoirse said warningly.

As Saoirse knelt beside the bike, she paused and observed the billionaire for a moment, noting the odd satisfied look which pulled at his features.

'What?' He asked self-consciously.

'You still have some arrogant jerk-like tendencies but I have to admit… in your own way… you're sort of nice.' Saoirse said awkwardly.

'A compliment wrapped in an insult… Saoirse Nolan, I do believe that's the loveliest thing you've ever said to me.' His eyes twinkled peculiarly as he approached. 'Saoirse… what your father did was unforgiveable.' He said quietly. Saoirse made a move to shrug his hand from her shoulder but failed miserably. 'I'm sorry you witnessed that at such a young age.' He finished firmly.

'Bruce, this is fatally wrong. You're giving me sympathy for witnessing a puppy's life being ended when… when your parents were murdered before you at eight years of age.' She whispered.

'Then it's fair to say we've both been subjected to the uglier side of life before either of us were ready.' He murmured as his gaze darkened. Bruce's hand crept along her neckline and rested on her chin, his index finger stroking her warm skin for a second. 'Enjoy your new project.' He said before dropping his hand, turning and striding out of the garage, leaving Saoirse alone. She stared past the MV Augusta F4 as his footsteps faded away, wondering why she had inflicted her already overwhelmed mind with mixed feelings concerning the Prince of Gotham.


	29. Chapter 29

Saoirse found herself in her father's house, wondering how long it would take before her patience snapped and she upended the kitchen table. Her tolerance of the Conlon's (bar her sister) was wearing uncomfortably thin and it would only be a short period of time before her rage became too volatile to supress, resulting in interesting yet horrendous consequences. Yet as Caoimhe skipped merrily into the room she knew her patience would hold… for one more day at least.

'Remember, it's a school night, so bring her back by eight.' Her mother muttered; her attention distracted by the hired beautician currently filing her talon-like nails. Caoimhe being impatient to leave was tugging on Saoirse's shoulder, creating an icy antidote to her frothing anger.

'Sure.' Saoirse replied quietly, forcing herself to remember that today was her first unsupervised visit with her sister. This meant hurling the beauticians nail clippers at Gloria's face was unfortunately out of the question.

'C'mon Siobhan, let's _go_.' Caoimhe urged, once more tugging on her sleeve, promising a day fuelled with many delights and further sisterly bonding. Saoirse swallowed painfully, loathing her sister innocently calling her by that stained name. She rose, took Caoimhe's hand in her own and marched rigidly from the kitchen. It was only after closing the door of her car did she manage to relax. She watched the house for a moment, wishing for spontaneous flames to burn the structure to the ground. She shook herself for a moment and drove away from the building, amazed at her hatred for the four walls which housed her parents.

'You look sad.'

'Do I?' Saoirse asked innocently.

'Do mommy and daddy make you sad?' Saoirse quickly rearranged her features, disciplining herself for the oncoming lie.

'No Caoimhe; our parents don't make me sad.' She'd tried to keep her tone light but the result sounded hollow in her ears.

'Good… cause that would make me sad. Now where are we going?' Saoirse exhaled a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

'It's a surprise.' She said with a smile, grateful for her sister's non-suspicious nature.

The road continued to disappear and the pleasant conversation was more than enough to untie the knot of tension in Saoirse's stomach. Having no parents breathing down her neck and constantly setting her nerves on fire allowed her at last to fully enjoy her sister's presence. She realised that if she succeeded with this, if everything –touch wood– went to plan, this rare happiness would be a feature of everyday happiness. It had also pleased the Commissioner to know that her father was allowing this short unsupervised visit; he took it as a sign that Michael Conlon was beginning to trust her again. Saoirse however, wasn't as optimistic.

The car slinked off the motorway and delved into a labyrinth of winding roads, bringing them closer to their destination. In five short minutes they'd halted and Caoimhe was staring ahead of her with her mouth agape. 'Does a Princess live here?' Caoimhe asked; her red locks bouncing as she skipped along the crunchy drive.

'Not a princess… but I guess a form of grouchy Prince stays here.'

'I wouldn't like to marry a grouchy prince…' Caoimhe said with a shake of her head.

'You and me both… So what kind of prince would you like to marry?' Saoirse asked, taking her sister's hand and swinging her arm easily.

'None! Boys are icky…'

'Excellent answer… Do you know the name of this place?'

'No, do you?'

'It's called Wayne Manor and the master of the house, Bruce Wayne, is the grouchy prince we spoke of.'

'Do you know the grouchy prince Saoirse?'

'I do.'

'Would _you _marry him?'

'Boys are icky, remember?'

'Yes but if you married the grouchy prince, you could become the charming princess and live in this grand palace and keep loads of ponies on the green grass.'

'… What a little schemer you are!' Saoirse said with a shock of laughter. The two made their way towards the huge house, Saoirse confident in the decision she'd made. It had taken some thinking over but this particular destination was perfect for their first trip together. Beautiful gardens, a stunning house, a kind Butler to show them around… She couldn't have picked a more perfect place if she'd tried. The door soon approached and after knocking, Alfred politely answered the door.

'What an unexpected surprise! I'm afraid Master Wayne isn't at home.' She had to applaud Alfred's retention of a polite manner for when his eyes fell on Caoimhe, a person with whom he'd never heard a word spoken of; he didn't allow any form of curiosity to pull at his face… though his eyes did twinkle.

'Oh he isn't? That is a shame; I was hoping to speak with him about the project I'm working on in the garage. Would you mind if I continued with my venture despite his absence Alfred?' It was no accident Saoirse was calling when Wayne Manor's master wasn't at home. She had to make sure that her sister didn't become confused by people calling her Saoirse when she knew her as Siobhan. Since failing to convince Alfred to call her by her first name, they had come to the compromise that he didn't greet her by any name at all which to an outsider may seem a very cold way to greet someone, yet for some bizarre reason, it worked for both of them. This annihilated any chance of Alfred calling her Saoirse while in Caoimhe's presence. Bruce who now always called her Saoirse wasn't around to provide such a blunder.

'Of course not, you are always welcome to Wayne Manor. Now, who is this fine young lady you've brought with you today?'

'My name's Caoimhe, spelt C-A-O-I-M-H-E and pronounced as "Queva".'

'My, my, what a bold introduction!'

'It's unlikely that my little sister will have any issues with confidence as she grows up.' Saoirse said fondly, making sure to emphasise the word "sister" so Alfred wouldn't be under the impression Caoimhe was her daughter.

Alfred conveyed them into the mammoth entrance hall where Caoimhe was struck dumb by the vast room and the expensive decoration. She took Saoirse's hand and allowed herself to be lead towards the garage where Alfred left them alone. Soon the lights were on and they were strolling down rows and rows of vintage cars.

'Does the grouchy prince own _all _of these?' Caoimhe asked in amazement, her voice echoing eerily around the carnivorous hall.

'All but one. After I completely fix her, this one will be mine.' Saoirse said, showing Caoimhe her treasured MV Augusta F4.

'It's pretty.' Caoimhe oozed.

'Not _it_, all beautiful objects in this world are referred to as _she_.'

'Really?'

'Oh yes, objects such as expensive cars, fancy boats, private jets… all referred to as women rather than genderless objects.'

'Have you named her yet?'

'I haven't.'

'Well that's silly.'

'Why?'

'You have a pretty bike who you say is a girl and you're too lazy to name her.'

'I suppose you're right… would you like to name her?'

'Let's call her… Jasmine.'

'Jasmine?' Saoirse couldn't help associating the name with a stripper.

'As in Princess Jasmine. The bike stays in a HUGE palace so she must be a princess.' Caoimhe defended.

'Nice logic.' Saoirse said while nodding in approval. 'Do you like books?'

'Mhmm.'

'C'mon, I want to show you something.' Saoirse said while taking Caoimhe's hand. They left the MV Augusta F4 behind and approached the exit.

'I think books should be women too.' Caoimhe said.

'And why's that?'

'Because books are beautiful too.' Caoimhe said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Saoirse gave her sister's hand an affectionate squeeze, feeling very proud of her sister. Just as she was about to open the metal door connecting the garage to Wayne Manor, the entrance slid to the side. Saoirse's gut clenched upon seeing someone who shouldn't be at home.

'B-Bruce? Alfred said you weren't home.' Saoirse said, her words quickly sandwiching themselves together.

'Well I wasn't, now I am…' His voice trailed away as his gaze fell upon her sister. Caoimhe; not understanding the seriousness of the situation; smiled and waved in her usual adorable manner.

'Hi my name is Caoimhe. Are you the grouchy prince?' She asked candidly. Saoirse stared at her sister in disbelief, unable to comprehend what she'd just called one of the world's most powerful people, not to mention her boss.

'Grouchy prince?' Bruce asked while looking at Saoirse, his eyes darkening ever so slightly.

'Are you the master of this house?' Caoimhe pursued.

'Yes. I am.'

'Then you're the grouchy prince. He is, isn't he?' She asked while looking up at Saoirse for approval. She took a second to think, yet it was hard to do when all that floated across her mind was "this shouldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening."

'Bruce, this is my little sister, Caoimhe.' Saoirse said while hesitantly introducing her.

'Little sister?' He asked with a quirked brow.

'Believe me; I was just as shocked as you.' Saoirse said with a smile, trying to think of some excuse to escape this situation which was seconds away from going catastrophically wrong. If either party called her by the name they thought they knew her as, an array of questions would be raised which Saoirse had no interest in answering. What had she been thinking brining Caoimhe to Wayne Manor? The idea had been ludicrous, she'd made absolutely no allowances for bumping into Bruce and look at the situation she'd landed herself in as a result!

'Caoimhe, do you like ice skating?' Bruce asked. Caoimhe nodded enthusiastically. 'Excellent, there so happens to be an ice rink here at Wayne Manor, would you like to go for a little ice skating session?'

'Oh, yes please!' Caoimhe squealed while following Bruce's striding figure. Saoirse's protest died in her throat as she hurried after the disappearing duo, passing the front door rather reluctantly.

'I didn't know you had an ice rink.' Saoirse muttered as she drew level with the billionaire.

'Strange, I thought you would remember.'

'Why would I remember a piece of trivial information like that?'

'Because it happened to be one of the exchanges in our first conversation.' Bruce replied, his dark eyes twinkling.

'Sorry, my concentration must have been distracted by a life changing interview instead of your boastings.'

'Apology accepted.' He replied curtly while opening a pair of double doors adjacent to a third dining room. Saoirse and Caoimhe simultaneously gasped as a magnificent rink was suddenly presented to them. It seemed unnatural for such a large space to be linked to an intimate dining room.

After finding the correctly sized ice skates and flicking on a couple of switches, Saoirse found herself peering at her distorted reflection on the ices glassy surface. Caoimhe tested the ice first, stumbling clumsily around the ice but quickly found her balance, her grace increasing as her strides lengthened. Saoirse had been skating a few times in her life so manoeuvring around the slippery surface was much easier than she had previously anticipated. She took her sisters hand and they gently lapped the rink, Caoimhe wobbling dangerously on a few occasions. As their pace increased, they became more daring, although Saoirse made sure her little sister didn't attempt anything too reckless.

It was when she was attempting to skate backwards did Saoirse stagger. She was travelling at a decent speed when she felt her ankle jar to one side, causing her to slump into a heap on the ice. Pain blossomed in her left ankle and she quickly rolled onto her back, trying to ignore the generous throbbing. She was aware Caoimhe was crouching beside her, her little face streaked with tears and her forehead creased with worry.

'S'alright Caoimhe.' Saoirse managed to mutter, her watering eyes and slurred words doing little to soothe her sister's anxiety.

'Where does it hurt?' A calm voice asked.

'Left. Ankle.' Saoirse managed through gritted teeth.

'Alright, let's get you off the rink. Caoimhe, can you skate over to the entrance there and we'll get your sister some ice. And a few painkillers.' He mentioned in an undertone. Bruce's arm gripped her firmly beneath her arms and hoisted her unsteadily to her feet. 'Lean on me.' He commanded.

'It's honestly not that –'

'If you don't lean on me, I'm going to throw you over my shoulder.' He said crisply.

'Leaning isn't too bad I suppose…' Saoirse allowed while reluctantly resting her weight on Bruce. The two awkwardly made their way across the ice until Saoirse was carefully deposited onto a bench. Her leg was now elevated and Bruce was carefully removing her left skate flanked by a very concerned looking Caoimhe. Feeling slightly more lucid despite the worsening pain, Saoirse took her sister's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 'At least it wasn't you eh?' She said with a small chuckle. It was worth the effort to see her sister's frown unfurl.

Bruce continued to work with the skate until he prised it from a delightfully swollen foot. Saoirse stared at the morbidly obese thing with mild contempt. Bruce slapped an ice pack against his thigh and tenderly applied the bag to her injury. The relief was instant resulting in a mild yet nonetheless welcome euphoria.

'How's the pain?' Bruce asked.

'Much better.' Saoirse said with a lazy smile. It was amazing the relief a mere ice pack could provide.

'Good. I don't think anything's broken… You'll need to wait for the swelling to reduce and then your foot needs to be firmly wrapped for support. You may have avoided breaking the bone but you have managed to severely sprain your ankle.'

'Can I drive?'

'You should be fine after you're patched up.' He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he headed off to find some first aid supplies.

'Looks gross right?' Saoirse said to her sister.

'Really gross.' She agreed. 'Does the grouchy prince love you?' She casually asked.

'W-What? No Caoimhe, don't be idiotic!' Saoirse managed to splutter. 'And stop calling him the grouchy prince, he has a name. It's Bruce Wayne.'

'But I prefer grouchy prince.'

'This is his home and I think he would prefer you to call him Bruce Wayne.'

'I'm not sure; I think the grouchy prince is beginning to grow on me.' Bruce said easily, his smooth voice announcing his return.

'See?' Caoimhe said while tilting her head adorably to the side.

'I give up.' Saoirse muttered with a shrug, her foot deliciously numb from the ice pack. Bruce sat at the end of the bench and gently began to wrap her foot in swathes of clean bandages. It was only as he finished the task did Saoirse realise he was taking exceptionally good care of her. In the past she would have presumed him to guffaw his expensive ass off at her misfortune and then eventually end her woe by calling a medic to the scene. Instead, he replaced the icepack on top of her foot and then used some more bandages to strap the bag to her ankle.

'Ready to put some weight onto it?' He asked. Saoirse reluctantly nodded and still with a woozy head, she managed to place some weight on the tender limb. A second later she was back to a seated position, her brow slick with sweat.

'Give the ice some time to work its magic.' Bruce said while handing Caoimhe some sweets which he'd seemingly pulled out of nowhere.

Two hours later the swelling had greatly reduced and Bruce had re-wrapped Saoirse's troublesome left foot for the journey home. Overall, she was pleased by her visit which despite her initial worry of names crossing where they shouldn't, had gone quite smoothly. She awkwardly hobbled to the front door, trying to maintain her balance as Bruce walked close by, poised for any further misfortune. After the door had been opened, he fondly said goodbye to Caoimhe before turning his attention to Saoirse. He extended his hand as a form of formal goodbye but Saoirse ignored the outstretched limb. She clumsily hobbled closer and placed a soft yet firm kiss on his high left cheek bone.

'Thank you.' She murmured with a small smile, pleased to have caused the mild alarm which twinkled in his dark eyes.

'…Anytime?' He responded after a pause. Saoirse dropped her gaze, took her sister's hand and marched down the gravel drive. Every now and then she indulged herself to peer back at the handsome billionaire, strangely pleased to find his fingers tracing a particular spot on his left cheek.


	30. Chapter 30

The night had taken a turn for the worst; storm clouds brawled in the sky, releasing tremendous downpours of rain onto the unfortunate citizens of Gotham. Saoirse watched the rain hammer her windshield, urging herself to go home to bed but knowing she wouldn't sleep once she arrived. Insomnia was a new obstacle for her to overcome, a condition where she felt asleep and awake at the same time resulting in a constantly dopey state. Time didn't flow in the steady manner to which she had become accustomed, she'd find herself in Wayne Tower one second, staring at sketches she vaguely remembered penning and the next she was at home, staring hopelessly at her bedroom's ceiling. Sound had slightly altered too; it was as if a small amount of water was nesting in her eardrum, muffling the words of those with whom she conversed. As she rummaged for some milk to cool off her tenth coffee of the day, her fingers stumbled across a card. She recognised the slightly crumpled rectangle; it held Officer Blake's contact information which he'd given to her after dropping her home from the narrows. She recalled his generous offer of showing her around the sniffer dog department at the Gotham Police department. A second later the number was ringing, hopefully holding a distraction from the sleepless night ahead.

'Officer Blake.' He sounded completely destroyed.

'Officer… It's Saoirse. Saoirse Nolan.'

'Is everything alright Ms Nolan?' The exhaustion had disappeared and was replaced with alert concern.

'Yeah, everything's fine… why would you think I was in trouble?'

'Well I don't know about you Ms Nolan, but it's rare for me to receive social calls at 2:45 in the morning.' Saoirse felt like hitting herself as she stared at the clock on her dashboard. 2:45am? How had she not realised the late hour?!

'Oh shit, did I wake you?' The embarrassment continued to pile higher and higher.

'No you didn't wake me; I actually had a bank robbery to deal with.'

'At _this _hour?'

'Criminals become stranger and stranger. So if you're not in the process of being mugged or have any queries about your witness protection… how can I help?'

'Well you see…the thing is; I've been suffering from insomnia lately – '

'You're asking the wrong cop for access to drugs.'

'NO! No, nothing like that. Remember when I met your dog Buster, you kindly offered to show me around the sniffer dog department at the Gotham Police station…'

'So let me get this straight. It's nearly three in the morning; it is pissing rain and you want me to show you the Sniffer Dog department… _now_?'

'I'll bring you coffee?' A few seconds of silence greeted her on the line.

'Meet me round the back of the station at three. Oh and Ms Nolan?'

'Yes Officer?'

'You better bring me the biggest cup of coffee in this rotten city.' He hung up before she could provide a witty reply.

Ten minutes later she found herself at the back of Gotham's police station, waiting rather impatiently for Officer Blake's cruiser to arrive. A knock on her window caused her stomach to plummet into her shoes. She peered through the rain streaked glass to find Officer Blake beckoning her towards the station. She quickly dashed across the car park, dodging raindrops in the process. The two caught their breath for a moment once indoors and Saoirse handed over the largest cup of coffee she could produce at three in the morning. She affectionately greeted Buster who was looking decidedly dopey beside his master at this late hour.

'This is an impressively large cup of coffee.' Officer Blake said approvingly after taking along draught of the beverage.

'You're more than welcome… I can't believe you actually agreed to do this at such a late hour.'

'You know it sort of works… it's always chaos up there during the daytime, it'll be nice and calm at this strange hour.' Saoirse nodded while taking a swig of her own coffee. She proceeded through a metal detector and then followed him up a narrow staircase to the second floor. He swiped his card through a lock and advanced into a deserted corridor. 'You look tired.' He threw over his shoulder.

'Thanks, you don't look too sharp yourself.' He smiled sleepily upon reaching another door.

'This insomnia of yours… is it new or have you always suffered from it?'

'No, it's new. I haven't been properly awake for the past two weeks.' She replied.

'You should probably see a doctor; they'll give you some sleeping pills.'

'I don't like taking pills.'

'Stay that way and you won't have any trouble from me in the future.'

Saoirse followed him through many heavy doors and eventually arrived at their destination. They entered into a vast wing where Saoirse was surprised to find quite a sizeable amount of activity.

'Why are the dogs up at such a late hour?'

'They work late shifts like us, so they stay awake late into the night too.' They walked past cage after cage filled with magnificent Alsatians baring their pearly teeth.

'That's Buster's brother.' Saoirse watched with amazement as Buster paused outside of this cage and tapped noses with the dog residing inside.

'He knew!' She whispered.

'They have bonds just like us.' Officer Blake said with a shrug. 'Now down here is where the department receives a few strays with the potential to become sniffer dogs.' Saoirse looked at the languid looking dogs, their fur was lank and with some cases, their ribs could be seen protruding beneath their skin.

'What happens if they're not suitable for the force?'

'It's something I highly disagree with, but they get sent to the pound.' Saoirse made a violent wish that these dogs would not be subjected to such a grim fate. 'Now this is the infamous stray. He's very quiet; in fact he's so quiet some believe he's a bit of a ghost.'

'A ghost dog?'

'That's right, he never barks or draws attention to himself unless you approach him. Then he turns crazy, as if possessed by a dead convict.' Saoirse peered through the cage and was surprised to find the cage occupied by a black Alsatian.

'I had no idea there were black Alsatians.'

'They're rare alright. Unfortunately our infamous stray is going to the pound soon due to his inability to function as a Sniffer dog. Plus he tries to rip every officer which approaches him.'

'Where was he found?'

'Down by the narrows, once a dog has been mistreated in his past, he never fully recovers from the damage.'

'How old is he?'

'A year, well that's the accepted estimate anyway.'

'What happened to his ear?'

'No idea, it's been split since he arrived. Poor Casper, you never got a break did you boy?'

Saoirse froze.

'Everything alright Ms Nolan?' Blake asked after a minute.

'His name…'

'What about it?'

'W-What was it again?'

'The supervisor named him Casper due to him scaring the living daylights out of most of the department's trainers. Also it's ironic because his fur is black while ghosts are generally accepted to be white...'

'C-Casper…' Saoirse spluttered, a lump in her throat making it hard to utter the name. The dog raised his sleepy head, his long ears pricked upon hearing his name. What a heavy coincidence… a black dog with a torn left ear by the name of Casper. Saoirse felt drawn to the tormented creature, wanting to provide a home to the doomed dog. She noticed a bowl of treats beside the cage and carefully offered him one through the bars. The dog stretched before padding over to investigate the sickly smelling substance.

'Ms Nolan, be careful of your fingers.'

'I know.'

Casper sniffed the extended treat before delicately taking it from Saoirse's hand. He chewed for a couple of seconds then sat by the bars, his eyes watching her closely. She extended her hand and was pleased when Casper allowed her to pet his black coat.

'See? He doesn't seem that –' Saoirse's sentence ended in a squeal as Casper's teeth sunk into her hand.

'Shit! Let go of her you stupid dog!' Officer Blake roared as he tried to intervene. Saoirse on the other hand remained perfectly calm and did her best to calm the incensed officer also.

'Hang on one second; I'll get him off you –'

'Officer Blake, it's alright –'

'What do you mean it's alright? Casper's teeth are _in_ your hand.'

'Do you honestly think I'm not aware of that?' Saoirse asked sarcastically.

'Then why are you stopping me from helping you!?'

'Because this is important.' Saoirse growled. 'Now if you wouldn't mind stepping back a few paces while I deal with this?'

'You're mad.'

'You didn't arrive at such a conclusion when I proposed this excursion at such a late hour?'

'No, I was giving you the benefit of the doubt!'

Saoirse bit back another retort and concentrated on the teeth biting into her hand. Casper was growling, she could feel the vibrations through his salivating jaws. His eyes were wide but as Saoirse peered closer, it wasn't madness which made them so wide. It was fear. Despite current appearances, the dog was afraid of her and had used his teeth to defend himself. Wrenching her hand from his mouth would not be received well by the canine, so she allowed herself to fall into a seated position and did her best to ignore her throbbing hand. Casper's gaze was still fixated on her but after a minute, he ceased growling.

'What, you're having a staring contest with him now?' She didn't answer him. 'Ms Nolan please, you need to go to the hospital.' Still she didn't answer him. The staring contest continued, Saoirse ignoring the agitated pacing of Officer Blake. Then slowly, she felt the pressure release from her hand until Casper had let go of her hand entirely. Much to the dismay of Officer Blake, she slowly offered her unbitten hand for the dog to investigate. Instead of biting this hand as well, the dog astonished both of them by giving her fingers a long lick.

'Good boy.' Saoirse murmured, scratching the dog behind his torn ear. 'Good boy, you know there's nothing to be afraid of don't you? You know I won't hurt you. Good boy.' She finally turned her attention to the bewildered looking officer.

'It's too early in the morning for something like this.' He stated wearily.

'What will it take to stop them taking him to the pound?' Saoirse asked quietly.

'Nothing… except for a miraculous increase in his test scores.'

'And how has he fared in these tests?'

'He hasn't finished a batch before; each trainer became too frightened of him when he turned aggressive.'

'So obviously his testing scores won't improve.'

'Sadly no… though I must admit, I've never seen him show a human affection before.'

'He was scared. Animals which are scared nearly always attack an opponent they are afraid of.'

'Still… that was rare.'

'What if someone were to adopt him? Would that stop him from taking a temporary residence in the pound?'

'It would… but who would want to adopt a deranged creature with no capacity for simple obedience, loyalty or love?'

'I do.' She said, staring the startled police officer directly in the eye.

'You can't be serious.'

'But I am.'

'Ms Nolan, this dog just _bit _you –'

'Do you think I'm stupid officer?'

'Of course not –'

'Then why do you keep informing me of my injured hand as if I don't realise I was bitten?'

'Because you want to adopt this aggressive dog at some ludicrous hour, I'm just making sure you are aware of what you are doing.'

'Can I adopt this dog or not?'

'Well… technically speaking you can, but what do you plan –'

'Then get the procedure started, I'm not leaving this place without him.' Saoirse said fiercely.

'Putting the biting incident aside, this isn't a responsibility to be underestimated. Any normal dog requires a lot of attention and care but this one… he'd almost need therapy sessions.' Saoirse remained unmoved by Officer Blake's concern. Her gaze was fixed on the jet black dog curled up inside the cage, his eyes bright against his dark coat. His left ear forked like a python's tongue yet added a ferocity to his overall appearance instead of creating a pathetic impression. She felt a quiet certainty that she would be able to help this dog irrespective of all the warnings given to her by Officer Blake.

'I can understand how you would think I'm underestimating this. In fact, if I were in your shoes, I'd think I was an idiotic moron on speed. Let me put it like this Officer; if you knew about a certain incident which occurred in my past, you would completely understand why I'm doing this.' Saoirse couldn't afford to lose another Casper to death.

He observed her for a moment, took a swig from his coffee and muttered a more colourful version of the expression "duck it."

'This shouldn't take long.' He said while heading towards a nearby desk, his acceptance of this insane situation igniting a smile on Saoirse's face.

Less than half an hour later, Saoirse left the station with the black Alsatian padding beside her. She couldn't believe that she finally had a dog of her own, that his fur was coal-black, he had a torn left ear and his name was Casper. It was hard to describe but a bond had been created between the two of them when he bit her. She had simply shown him that there was no reason for him to be afraid of her.

She soon sat into her car and was pleased when Caser sat in beside her in the passenger seat. 'Good boy.' She murmured before turning on the car and driving towards Gotham general. She needed to fix her hand to stop the throbbing pain and to prevent an infection from spreading.


	31. Chapter 31

'You can't be serious.' Saoirse said, staring at the Commissioner in disbelief.

'I wouldn't ask you unless there was no other choice.'

'In order for me to obtain more information, you want me to rekindle my relationship with Jimmy Junior?'

'…Yes.'

'This is such bullshit!' Saoirse felt like upending the desk she was sitting at, a sentiment she'd continuously felt these past few weeks. 'IfI do this… there's no guarantee of him accepting my advances.'

'I don't see why he wouldn't; the extent of his affection was quite astounding throughout your hostage situation.'

'That may have been the case then but I later found out he knew I had a sister. During my capture he never told me about her, he only wanted to satisfy his own selfish agenda which involved us eloping to Europe. After confronting him about his deception, I made it abundantly clear I wanted nothing more to do with him.'

'And when was this?'

'Five months ago, just after you told me about Caoimhe.'

'Tell him time has granted you a new perspective on the whole situation.'

'But it hasn't.' The commissioner sighed while taking off his glasses. Saoirse felt some sympathy for the conflicted man as he massaged the bridge of his nose.

'Saoirse… I'm fully aware your feelings for a man who helped hold you hostage are far from romantic. But Michael Conlon has been playing his cards close to his chest and I know you can extract the information we desire from Jimmy Junior.' Saoirse chewed the side of her thumb nervously. 'Right now you're waist deep in this investigation. If you do this you'll be taking the plunge, fully immersing yourself in this case to find the intelligence we need to put your father away for good. Besides, he's not the only crook we're worried about.'

'Are you worried about the Italian? Anthony Gambino?'

'No, we know your father is too high up on the food chain to work for a mob boss like Mr Gambino.'

'…You think my father is working for someone?'

'At the moment it's the most logical theory. You disagree?'

'All I can say is my father has always been his own boss, never taking orders from anyone but himself.'

'Perhaps your father wasn't given a choice in the matter. It's of paramount importance to unmask the shadow for whom your father is working for but in order to achieve this; we need Jimmy Junior's help.'

'You think he has access to such information?'

'He followed in his father's footsteps and has been steadily progressing through the ranks. His father has promoted him in order to secure his son's place in the next generation of mobsters. This resulted in Jimmy Junior receiving access to a lot of information concerning the family's current affairs including who your father is working for.'

'What kind of person would have the Manhattan Mafia working _for _them?' Saoirse asked quietly.

'Unfortunately for Gotham City, the worst kind.' He replaced his glasses, the large lenses only highlighting the dark circles beneath his eyes. 'Now when you're moving in on Jimmy Junior you need to take your time. Rushing in will only raise his suspicions. When you first talk with him be angry, then after a few meetings, calm down and let some of the affection you feel for Caoimhe spill into your conversation. In terms of information, never ask him for any because one: he won't tell you and two: he won't trust you if he thinks you're trying to find out the family's affairs from him. Let him tell you. And don't panic if he takes his time about it.'

'I'll try to be patient.' She said.

He swallowed for a moment and managed to conjure a tired smile. 'How are you managing?' He asked while staring out the window.

'I'm fine.' Saoirse muttered, doling out the world's most popular lie. The thought of reuniting with Jimmy Junior made her feel physically ill yet if it was for the sake of this investigation, she would endure. If not for the end of the Manhattan mafia, then for the future of her sister.

'If it ever becomes too overwhelming… you're under no obligation to remain in this operation.'

'That's a kind thought Commissioner but you and I both know I have no choice in this. Ever since the mayor played his trump card, I've been his puppet to manipulate.' The commissioner made no move to defend the mayor for which Saoirse was grateful.

'Is that everything?' She finally asked.

'Yes.'

'I should go, it would do no good if someone of note witnessed me spending one-on-one time with the commissioner.'

'Look after yourself Saoirse.'

'I've done alright so far.' She replied. A moment later she'd slammed the car door and was walking through the darkness to where her own car was parked. She didn't turn around as the commissioner started his inexpensive engine; she instead kept her head down until arriving at the driver's door. Upon entering, she sighed and leant heavily against the wheel. Rekindling things with Jimmy Junior was a horror she'd never wanted to subject herself to again.

Casper stirred on the adjacent seat, his powerful body providing some comfort for her disturbed mind. She reached out and scratched him behind his ears, earning a friendly growl in the process. Saoirse started the car and reluctantly made her way home. What she really needed was eight hours of solid sleep to overlook the remarkable stresses of her everyday life. In dreams she could forget her undercover operation, forget the anger which throbbed painfully whenever she saw her parents, forget the sadness which she felt for her poor sister Caoimhe, forget the upcoming romance she had to embark on with Jimmy Junior, forget the mixed feelings she had for a certain playboy billionaire…

It was a foolish hope to desire the tranquil realm of dreams. Her insomnia had decided to become an overly attached best friend, robbing her of blissful hours spent in oblivion. Instead of sleeping, she would count the cracks in the ceiling, designating one for each problem in her life. At times she felt there were too many flaws to her story and would patiently wait for the fissures to gain ground. When it all became too much to bear, the ceiling would collapse on her body and she wondered if the impact of such a crash would do justice to what felt like the inevitable implosion of her life.

* * *

Coffee: the sweet black nectar which held the shattered pieces of her life together. Saoirse drained her third cup and did her best to focus on her current project. The sheets of fibreglass she'd previously ordered had finally arrived, allowing her to construct the skeleton of her latest invention.

'How's the ankle?' Asked an unexpected voice. Saoirse reluctantly dropped the sheet of glass and turned towards her visitor.

'Completely healed despite my atrocious skating skills… Thanks again for your help.' She muttered more to the floor than to Bruce himself.

'You're welcome. I do have one question though.'

'Fire away.'

'Nowhere on your personal record does it say anything about you having a sister.'

'You son of a bobbing pigeon, stop looking through my private record!'

'Bobbing pigeon?' He asked with a bewildered expression.

'That wasn't bad…' Saoirse murmured approvingly, unable to comprehend where the creative insult had arisen from.

'But seriously, why isn't your sister listed on your record?'

'Well, what did you search?'

'Caoimhe Nolan.'

'There would be your mistake; our last names differ due to our different mothers.'

'So what's her last name?'

'As if I'd tell my own bobbing pigeon who likes to stalk my private record that.'

'I don't stalk you, I merely keep informed.'

'Yeah, yeah, save it for the jury.' She rubbed her eyes while peering hopelessly into the empty depths of her coffee cup.

'You look tired.'

'Your charms always manage to make a girl blush Bruce.' She muttered while stifling a yawn. 'Now unlike you, I have more important things to be doing apart from aggravating people who have it stamped across their forehead that they do not want to be disturbed. So if you wouldn't mind…?'

'Actually, your work is the reason why I'm down here.'

'Don't toy with me Bruce, I don't have the energy or the patience.'

'You are my paid employee, why shouldn't I be interested in your work? Maybe you should treat this as a form of employee evaluation…'

'If this is an evaluation – which it isn't – then Mr Fox would be carrying it out, not you.'

'And why would that be?'

'He happens to be an expert in the field I work in. But if you have a PHD in engineering and have worked in a department similar to this one, then feel free to conduct your evaluation.' Bruce looked as if he were going to say something then decided against it. He exhaled slowly for a second before abruptly changing the topic.

'How's your anger?'

'It's calmed down these past few weeks.'

'I thought so, but what's caused the change?'

'Insomnia.'

'That would explain your current state of exhaustion.'

'No shit Sherlock.' Saoirse said before she could stop herself. To her profound relief Bruce chuckled instead of taking the insult to heart.

'I sometimes forget how stupidly brave you are.' He shook his head for a second, the smile slowly fading from his face.

'You really want to see what I'm working on?' Saoirse asked reluctantly.

'Yes.'

'Ok then.' She turned her back and entered into the maze of storage.

* * *

An hour later Bruce watched as Saoirse return her attention to her current project, the function of which he had failed to ask. The dark circles beneath her eyes were worryingly severe, proving his suspicions about her being unable to cope with the pressures of her sting operation. He made a mental note to give her something to combat her restless nights before trying to find Lucius Fox. A moment later he found him in his office, puzzling over some new sketches.

'Are those for me?' Bruce asked, closing the door behind him.

'Unfortunately these are far too boring to benefit your nightly excursions. Ms Nolan on the other hand has created a few prototypes which may interest you.'

'She was showing me some of her latest models.'

'What did you think?'

'I believe you chose your protégée wisely.'

'She is quite brilliant… or do you disagree?'

'Her talent is indisputable yet what she creates cannot benefit my night time outings.'

'In her defence Mr Wayne, she isn't aware of the criteria which you expect her to meet. In order for that to happen, you would have to admit some very personal details.'

'True.'

'Yet I think you do her an injustice by branding her work as useless for your personal plans. At the very least, her last prototype should have piqued your interest.'

'The one she's currently working on?'

'No, not that, the one beneath the black curtain. What did you think of it?'

'I didn't think anything… she said it was incomplete and not worth viewing.'

'And you believed her.' Mr Fox said while peering over the bridge of his glasses.

'If it's finished, why would she shield it from me?'

'Perhaps Mr Wayne, it may be something worth concealing. This leaves you with only one question:'

'What's under the curtain?'

'I suppose your curiosity is reaching unbearable levels, it always does with matters which are best left alone.'

'If you know, it would be in your best interests with our peculiar relationship to tell me.'

'I suppose our relationship wouldn't be described as a normal employer-employee shindig.' He sighed while relaxing further into his chair. 'Beneath that curtain is the potential to change war forever.'

'How?'

'Ms Nolan has a certain fascination with magnets and this has led her to a startling discovery. A man of your intellect will be familiar with magnetic fields Mr Wayne.'

'Sure.'

'Ms Nolan has created a magnetic field which is activated by a hand held control. Flick the switch, the field appears.'

'I don't see how this will change the way in which war operates.'

'Let me finish. The field surrounds the person holding the remote but the most interesting part is the dispersion of the field. Instead of being evenly distributed as is usual, it's concentrated to certain points around the body. This leads to interesting consequences when weapons are introduced.'

'How strong is this magnetic field?'

'In the concentrated regions? Exceptionally strong.'

'I'll need you to be a little more specific.'

'Alright, I'll give you a hypothetical. You have the field activated and then someone decides to fire fifty rounds at you from a high powered machine gun. The magnetic field's areas of high concentration are strong enough to draw a straight shot away from the body into the surrounding space. The bullets simply wouldn't reach their target Mr Wayne.'

Bruce was startled; he hadn't expected such a revolutionary technique to be under wraps mere feet from the office he was standing in.

'Does it work?' He asked quietly. Mr Fox nodded. 'You've seen it tested?'

'I've tested it myself. I aim for the head, the bullet deviates six inches to the left, completely missing the target.'

'Sure you don't have poor aim?'

'My aim is impeccable Mr Wayne.'

'So if you activate this shield and you stand still…'

'You'll be bulletproof.' Mr Fox finished.

'That may be something I'm interested in. However, I'll have to see it in action before I take it with me on one of my nightly excursions.'

'Might I suggest you return here for a demonstration after Ms Nolan has vacated the building?'

'Good point, I'll return later this evening. Thank you Mr Fox, you've given me a lot to think about.'

'See you then, sir.'

* * *

Saoirse tightened one last screw and stepped back to admire her finished project. The fibreglass had slotted into place perfectly and she derived much pleasure from the finished article. She plugged it into a nearby electricity device and smiled with anticipation.

'What on earth is this?' Bruce asked as he exited Mr Fox's office.

'You're looking at the best speakers in the world.'

'They're _huge_.'

'It's to allow the quality of sound to be deadly.'

'That may be the case but they are enormous.' The speakers themselves were the size of a normal person yet it was the sheets of fibre glass which provided the sheer feeling of enormity. The fibreglass slotted into place, providing the shape of a trumpet's horn.

'May I test them?' Bruce asked.

'Knock yourself out.' He pulled out the world's most expensive smartphone and quickly scanned to a particular song. He then placed the device in the docking station and pressed play.

The sound was incredible. The song choice was unexpected but nonetheless provided a spectacular template for the speaker's first proper airing. The bass was perfectly balanced and the vocalist's voice was spectacularly crisp. The wide department thrummed with music as Saoirse stared at her creation with pride. Not only did it work, the sound was clearer and more beautiful than she had ever hoped for.

'Nice song choice.' Saoirse said approvingly, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

'T. Rex is an old favourite of mine.'

'They should be; Cosmic Dancer is a classic song.' Saoirse said before sitting on the couch, closing her eyes and allowing the music to wash over her. Oh the sound quality was _superb!_

She re-opened her eyes to find Bruce a few feet away, wearing a worryingly determined expression. 'What?' Saoirse asked reluctantly. Instead of responding, he took both of her hands and pulled her to her feet. Ignoring her perplexed look, he swiftly slid an arm around her waist and began to sway. 'Bruce, what –' The rest of her sentence was muffled by his finger pressing firmly against her lips.

'No talking.' He murmured, recommencing their one-sided waltz.

'But I want to protest –'

'Saoirse.' He said through gritted teeth, stopping dead in their awkward dance. 'Saoirse… give me this much.' He said with closed eyes, his brow furrowed deeply. Saoirse wasn't sure if it was the slightly vulnerable disposition of the usually strong Bruce Wayne combined with her sleep deprivation which resulted in her change of heart. Pushing aside the tidal wave of worry in her mind, she reached out and smoothed his creased skin, ignoring his surprised gaze.

'You keep frowning like that, you'll need Botox which will undoubtedly result in a botched job and then the paparazzi will have a field day. So stop.' She stepped closer, placed her hand on his shoulder and began to move to the beautiful song. Bruce was soon swaying in perfect time, his lightness of foot a welcome surprise. As they spun, she in her jeans and untamed hair, him with his immaculately kept hair and expensive Armani, she found herself sapped of all strength. It was common sense, not courage which caused her to rest her head on his shoulder. 'No funny business.' She murmured into his collar, enjoying the pleasant aroma of expensive cologne applied with a light hand.

'You think I'd risk another black eye?' He responded, his reply slightly muffled by the red hair which tickled his chin.

'You're Bruce Wayne, the infamous chancer.' Saoirse replied drowsily.

'You will never get anything from life if you don't ask for it.' He said firmly. Saoirse withdrew her head form his neck, her nose lightly tracing over Bruce's cheek as she faced him straight on.

'Is there something you want to ask?' Saoirse whispered, fearlessly holding his weighted gaze. The song had ended, obliterating the rest of their dance, leaving only oppressive silence for company. Bruce observed her carefully, his dark eyes smiling though his lips didn't move.

'Maybe I do have a question.'

'Please, don't be shy.'

'…It's a tricky one to phrase.'

'I wouldn't think someone like you would have a problem posing such a question.'

'Someone like me?'

'Yes, someone with your _experience_.'

'Do you think I lack the courage?'

'No. I simply think it's unusual for you to think about something like this.'

'And what exactly is "this"?'

'…I think you know.'

The two fell silent once more, neither looking away, neither moving a muscle. While they were both contemplating their options, a door opening some way to their right caused them to spring apart. Lucius Fox approached with an innocent smile and admired the speakers, long forgotten by Saoirse and Bruce.

'I heard the music through my office… they're beautifully crafted Ms Nolan.' He said approvingly.

'Thank you Mr Fox.'

'What do you think Mr Wayne?'

'They're intriguing.' He said, glancing at Saoirse as he spoke.

'Well Ms Nolan, it's time for you to go home.' Saoirse glanced at her watch in disbelief and realised Mr Fox was correct.

'Right you are Mr Fox, I'll organise the shipment of these speakers tomorrow.'

'Very good. Mr Wayne, I believe we have some unfinished business?'

'Yes, we do. I'll see you soon Saoirse.'

'Bye Bruce.' Saoirse muttered, approaching the exit of the department. As the door hissed open, she found herself turning towards the figures disappearing into Mr Fox's office. As Bruce was about to follow Lucius in, he looked up, his lip curling upon seeing Saoirse standing there. He gave her a small wave before closing the door behind him.


	32. Chapter 32

Beads of Saoirse's blood fell onto the kitchen floor, now transformed into a graveyard for shattered plates. The slivers of china gleamed meekly in the pale light, uncomfortable proof of the towering fury which had just consumed her. She unfurled her right hand, banishing the splintered piece of china which had bit so vehemently into her palm. Her heart was slowly calming, the initial anger spent after destroying the contents of a neighbouring cupboard. She stared at the man who had triggered her rage, vaguely wondering what thoughts were going through his bewildered mind. Perhaps they consisted of passionate oaths sworn against her, promises to punish her violent outburst. Or maybe his thoughts had adopted a state of hibernation, so severe was the shock he was currently battling.

He moved gingerly at first, unsure if doing so would result in the demolition of another cupboard. After this theory was disproved, he navigated the kitchen's debris with ease and took a seat near the kitchen's knives. Though Saoirse knew he had no intention of drawing one, his position grew more menacing nonetheless. He flicked on his lighter and ignited his last cigar, the plumes of smoke billowing calmly from the iron-hot tip. Not a word was spoken as the cigar puffed away, Saoirse trying to remain oblivious to the stinking smoke.

'You're bleeding.' He said quietly, looking like a picturesque 1950's gangster with his hat sitting proudly on his head, cigar dwindling between his fingers.

'I know.' Her voice was smooth, controlled.

'Here –' He stubbed his cigar in a nearby ashtray before fumbling in a nearby drawer and producing a miniature first-aid kit. '– You need to blanch it.' Saoirse sat in the opposing chair and muffled a wince as she began to wrap her hand.

'Does it hurt?'

'No it feels fucking fantastic Jimmy.' Saoirse spat. Junior watched her for a moment, carefully formulating his next sentence.

'Was there any particular reason for you coming to my house? Apart from breaking all the china I own of course.'

'You really want to know?'

'I am rather curious; you've been pretending I don't exist for the past few months.'

'I came to patch things up with you.'

'W-What?' He spluttered.

'… However, it seems I underestimated the depth of my fury. As you can see I threw quite a tantrum at the beginning of our conversation.'

'What the hell are you still angry about?'

'Oh nothing really, I'm just slightly frustrated about how you concealed my sister's existence in order to pursue your own selfish agenda.' She finished bandaging her hand and watched Junior expectantly.

'And I have no right to feel angry about what happened that night? Have you so quickly forgotten the loyalty, trust and the chance to escape I offered you?' He hissed. 'You manipulated me in that cage Siobhan, allowing me to believe the future which we _both _knew I wanted was tangible. When that messy situation finally drew its sodden conclusion, you coldly threw me away… Your frustration is nothing compared to mine.'

'You have no right to feel abandoned Junior.'

'And what logic could you possibly have to support that premise?'

'Junior, you betrayed my trust… it was only logical that I disowned you.'

'Well if it was logic which forced your decision, what drove you here tonight?' Junior asked.

'I've had some time to think, Jimmy. ' Saoirse replied.

'So?'

'It allowed me to gain a new perspective…' The commissioner's words felt like cardboard against her tongue yet she persevered. She fruitlessly searched for the words which would allow him to believe she desired what they had once shared. Yet to persuade Junior that she had forgiven him especially after her violent rampage was going to be more than tricky. Besides, when she swore to remove someone from her life as she had previously done with Junior, she abided by that promise for good.

'Well? What perspective did you gain?' He asked frostily.

Her thought process wasn't helped by the itch in her right ear where she knew a device was conveying audio to the sting operation's headquarters. 'I may have declared something which I've now come to regret.' She murmured, twiddling a toothpick in her hand.

'So _time_ has allowed you to realise that you still need me in your life?' He asked sarcastically, a smirk pulling at his lips.

'No-one likes an arrogant ass Junior.' His smirk quickly faded. 'I'll be blunt… As I'm sure you're aware, you were the only one who kept me sane when we grew up in Manhattan. It's a poorly kept secret Caoimhe is the only reason I'm still here. Yet in order to see my sister, I have to deal with the people I'm unfortunately related to –'

'You should show your parents some respect.' He interjected.

'– And it's driving me up the wall.' Saoirse finished as if she hadn't been interrupted. 'I'm not interested in this hard mobster which you've apparently turned into, the only person I want to see is the sweet seventeen year old who made even my most atrocious day bearable… is that really so hard to believe?' Saoirse concealed a look of surprise at the eloquence with which she had spoken, particularly impressed with the shake her voice had adopted towards the end of her last sentence.

'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.' Junior said quietly, his eyes glittering in the pale light.

'This isn't a game Junior, there isn't a cage forcing me to manipulate you.'

'Are you sure about that? How about we exchange the cage for something more sinister… such as the Gotham Police? Can you honestly tell me there have been no officers offering you witness protection in exchange for information?' Her heart and stomach clenched, fighting to keep her exterior calm and collected.

'The Gotham Police don't know who I am Junior; they have no access to my original witness protection scheme. They have no idea I'm Michael Conlon's daughter. So why would they come after me, searching for information which I should not have access to?'

'They don't know your true identity?'

'They do not.'

'How do you know this?'

'I'm on their system as Saoirse Nolan, not as Siobhan Conlon.'

'I didn't mean to say you _were _giving the cops information… I mean it's not like you even have information to offer them –'

'Junior I understand, in this sort of situation it's hard for you to trust me because of my past. But even if they ever did figure out who I was and offer me immunity… you know I'd never take it.'

'And why would I know that?'

'Because it didn't work, the dangerous people they were supposed to be protecting me from still found me.'

'Am I one of those dangerous people?'

'Ha, you wish.' She looked around her for a moment, slightly dismayed by how many plates she had smashed. 'Sorry about… you know… the damage I caused.' She muttered.

'I can't say I'm surprised, you always had a temper.' He said with a shrug.

'And you never properly retaliate regardless of what mess I cause.'

'There was never any point, staying angry at you is like punching a baby, it's something which I find unacceptable.' He replied with a shrug.

'I'm glad you think assaulting babies is wrong.'

'Well, I'm not a complete psychopath.'

'Comforting to hear.'

He twiddled his thumbs for a moment, unsure where to go with this bizarre conversation.

'How's the hand? I've some painkillers if the pain is too much.' He offered.

'Are we talking about real painkillers or the ones you can purchase over the counter?' She asked jokingly.

'Whichever you prefer.' He said with a straight face. Saoirse nearly gasped at the small confession, unwilling to believe that it had been recorded on her wire. She could almost hear the cheers of her listening audience back at headquarters.

'Depends on what you have.' She replied smoothly.

'Well, let's see then...' He rummaged through the first aid kit and Saoirse was astonished when he produced four clear bags, each containing a different illegal substance.

'What's this?' She asked, picking up a bag of white powder. 'Is that cocaine?' She asked in a quiet voice.

'You snort that, we're going to have a Pulp Fiction scenario where I'll have to inject you with an adrenaline shot to the heart.'

'It's heroin?' She whispered.

'Pretty good quality too.'

'Heroin's a bit strong for me.' Saoirse admitted, trying to resist flinging the bag away from her.

'I imagine Cerulean is something you want to stay away from too…' He murmured, pushing the bag filled with blue powder to the side. 'Now _this _is cocaine.' He said, pushing forward another bag filled with white powder. 'Snort a line of that, pain will become a thing of the past.'

'I didn't realise you'd turned into a drug dealer.' Saoirse said with a grin, trying to contain her shock that Class A drugs were casually on display in front of her.

'It's always good to have a few commodities in hand; some people prefer goods to cash.'

'What's that?' She asked, picking up the final bag.

'Some of the finest marijuana in the country. I personally recommend it; helps to calm down after the end of a hard day. Would work a treat on your anger.' He carefully opened the bag. 'Shall I roll you a joint? Or do you prefer it in baked goods?'

'Actually, I think I might stick with paracetamol.' Saoirse said, moving away from the drugs in front of her. Her stomach twisted as Junior's expression darkened.

'Now, why would you inquire if I have these fine goods yet suddenly shy away from a free sample? Seems a little suspicious if you ask me.' He said, his eyes suddenly razor sharp.

'There's nothing to be suspicious about.' Saoirse said a little too quickly.

'So you wouldn't mind if I did a little search of you then?'

'Actually I would mind. But if it would set your jittery nerves at ease, then knock yourself out.' Sometimes the best form of defence was attack, inviting Junior to frisk her would prove she had nothing to hide and wouldn't do any harm igniting any of his dwindling feelings. She stood up and braced herself for the oncoming search. Junior spread out her arms and legs before slowly running his fingers over her limbs. She didn't flinch when his index finger brushed her left ear, knowing that if he cottoned onto her hiding something, she probably wouldn't make it out of this house alive. It took five of the longest minutes for Jimmy to finish his search and Saoirse could only applaud the gadgets ability to remain concealed.

'Happy?' Saoirse asked, turning her head to see why Jimmy was still standing behind her.

'My apologies for doubting your word.' He said while approaching the table. He opened the bag and in less than a minute, had deftly rolled two spliffs. He offered the second to Saoirse who reluctantly accepted, not wanting to ignite any other suspicions. 'Cheers.' He said while lighting them both. She put the spliff to her lips and after fighting her mighty principals about keeping away from drugs, took a deep breath.

After a few hallucinated riddled hours including destroying the contents of Jimmy's fridge, Saoirse found herself pressed against Junior on the couch. Her wits sharpened and she realised the effects of the marijuana had finally worn off. Horror gripped her stomach when she thought of all the bizarre things headquarters must have heard during the past few hours. She pushed her despair aside and peered at the dazed man beside her. To her absolute fascination, she realised Jimmy was still as high as a kite, leaving him in a very vulnerable position.

'Jimmy?' Saoirse asked gently, the surrounding environment dulling to their original colours.

'Yes my little gun moll?' He asked, grinning manically in the process.

'How are you feeling?'

'So…. Happy…. You know what Siobhan? Every girl I meet… they're like one colour. Either red or blue or purple… but you, you're like the entire rainbow, even when it's raining… you're stunning.' He said with a dopey smile.

'Can I ask you a question Jimmy?'

'Anything.'

'What's it like working for my dad?'

'S'alright. It means I get to see you so I'm happy I guess.'

'It's just alright?'

'I don't like the new guy.'

'The new guy?'

'Yeah… he's crazy. Like he should be blowing bubbles in a padded room… made of marshmallows… do you think I have any marshmallows left in the kitchen?'

'I'll go check.' Saoirse said, intrigued by the new crazy man Jimmy was spewing about. She returned a moment later, handing a packet of marshmallows to Jimmy who was having a severe case of the munchies. After wolfing down ten of them, he gazed happily into the depths of the marshmallow bag.

'Marshmallows could solve all of our problems.' He said sombrely. 'They could even fix the new guy ordering everyone around.'

'Does he have a name?'

'Sure he has a name. But it's not really a name…'

Saoirse had to stifle her laughter; trying to reason with a stoned Jimmy was hilarious.

'Well what's his name which isn't a name then?'

Jimmy paused and squinted at her. Then he burst out laughing. 'A name that isn't a name? How high are you gun moll?' He chuckled before stuffing his face with more marshmallows.

'Never mind me, how high are you?' Saoirse asked.

'No Siobhan, the saying goes 'Hi, how are you?' not the weird way you said it.'

'Ok…'

'We should go to a strip club! Or maybe we should order Chinese… mmm food or Boobs?' He blatantly stared at Saoirse's chest. 'But I already have boobs… so I'll send a message through my psychic link with the Chinese dude… and he'll bring me take away…'

'Do you want me to order Chinese for you?' Saoirse offered.

'No thanks, I'm not hungry.' Saoirse could barely conceal a chuckle. It was very hard to take advantage of Jimmy's current disposition when he was constantly cracking her up.

'Why do you call this guy crazy, the new guy?'

'Because he is my little gun moll. He's always laughing. Maniacal is what he is… maniacal maniacal maniacal… wow maniacal is a weird word.' He looked her square in the eye. 'He even scares your dad.'

'What's his name Jimmy?'

'He is mad. And he enjoys the madness… But he scares me through his love of danger.'

'His name Jimmy?' Saoirse repeated.

Jimmy watched her for a minute, suddenly appearing a little sharper than before. He was coming down from his high and would soon regain lucid thought and speech. Just as Saoirse thought he wouldn't reply, he gave her a cheesy smile and closed his eyes. He buried his face in a nearby cushion and said in a muffled voice:

'I don't know his real name… but I know his alias.'

'What is it?'

'… He's known as the Joker.'


	33. Chapter 33

Saoirse entered the headquarters triumphantly, exceptionally proud at managing to glean the name of the person controlling the Manhattan Mafia. She also had evidence recorded of Jimmy being a drug dealer, guaranteeing him time in jail. She was dismayed however to find the room subdued upon her return. The commissioner was looking especially stressed though he still managed to squeeze a tired smile upon her arrival.

'Why the longs faces?' She asked, her happy bubble instantly disappearing.

'It's the person who's leading the Manhattan Mob…' The commissioner began.

'Who, the Joker? Do we know anything about him?'

'We know too much about him unfortunately…' The commissioner sighed heavily. 'Take a seat; we need to have a talk.' Saoirse sat and watched him expectantly, anxiety gnawing at her stomach. 'The Joker is a familiar face… he wears face paint and has dyed his hair green so he resembles a sort of dishevelled clown. His most famous attribute is the scars around his mouth making him appear to be constantly smiling. He usually wears a purple suit. We do not know his real name though he has served a sizeable amount of time in Arkham Asylum.'

'He's insane?'

'He is completely and utterly mad. But do not think for a second that being mentally unstable makes him an easy opponent. He is incredibly cunning and most worryingly… merciless.'

'And this madman is lording over the Manhattan Mafia? Over my _father_?'

'I imagine they are not willingly in his service yet the Joker has always managed to forcefully get his way… always through the most creative means.'

'What does he want? Money? Fame? Power?'

'This is what makes the Joker so dangerous… we don't know what he wants.'

'I don't understand… he's a criminal. Surely he must want _something_.'

'I'm sure we'll find out in the next few days.'

'Was he released from the Asylum?'

'Not exactly…' He frowned deeply, his eyebrows merging together. 'A few weeks ago he was in transit to a more secure location. About halfway through the trip, his armoured truck was intercepted… we can now conclude that it was your father who is responsible for this.'

'Why wasn't it in the news that the Asylum had lost a high security madman?!'

'The Mayor ordered the incident to be kept away from the media's attention.'

'_What?_'

'He says he didn't want to induce mass hysteria.' Saoirse's mouth gaped at the horrendous cover up.

'So what happens now?' She muttered.

'For this team, the Joker has become priority number one. For you, this means we need you to stay exactly where you are, gleaning all of the information you can from the Conlon household. We won't need a cunning wiretap to arrest the Joker, he's a fugitive. All we need is a time and location and then we'll catch him.'

'And you need me to provide this time and place.'

'Yes.'

'And how am I supposed to do that?'

'By continuing what you started tonight with Jimmy Junior. From now on, he is our source of information and we need you to pump him dry.' Saoirse was finding it very hard to accept this dramatic escalation of events. 'It's alright to be afraid. But you need to know, you're not alone. We will be with you every step of the way. And when it comes to the Joker, you won't be anywhere near him.'

'What about Caoimhe.' Saoirse whispered.

'There's no reason your father would allow such a meeting to take place.' The commissioner said quickly, not sounding anywhere near certain.

'Are you saying that this madman could gain access to my sister?' She whispered, feeling sick to her stomach.

'I promise you, _nothing_ is going to happen to you or your sister.' She swallowed painfully before reluctantly accepting the riskier assignment. Making a decision where she didn't have a choice was becoming a very common theme in her life.

* * *

Saoirse stared out of the windscreen; the weight pressing against her heart increasing with each worrying thought. The meeting with the commissioner had left her feeling suffocated by the revelation of the Joker's identity. He was something much worse than a mob boss or an assassin. He was brilliantly cunning, merciless and most unsettling of all; insane. It was unnerving that the sting operation would now include the downfall of the Joker as well as the Manhattan Mafia. The investigation had become so overwhelming that Saoirse didn't believe a light existed at the end of the tunnel anymore. There had been some hope in bringing down her father, but introducing a psychotic madman into the equation was something she was not equipped for. The Joker held her own father in his grasp meaning he also held access to that which was most precious to her: Caoimhe. She felt physically ill at the thought of the Joker being anywhere near her little sister, she needed to protect her yet found herself frustratingly helpless.

'No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no….' She shook her head and banged her hands on the steering wheel, completely distraught. This couldn't be happening. She had enough to deal with, enough to handle. This unfair addition was too much; it was all too much… What was she supposed to do? Square her shoulders; hold her chin high and march onwards as if this didn't phase her? She was no machine; she couldn't shake this development off as if it didn't matter. Because it did. It all mattered. Now it seemed inevitable: everything would fall apart, any dreams she'd had for herself and Caoimhe were snuffed, gone forever. She could feel them slipping through her fingers and regardless of how she clawed, she couldn't save them.

She wasn't sure when she'd begun driving; the streetlamps flicking past at regular intervals were the only evidence of the car's motion. Her destination remained hazy but driving somewhere seemed like a better option compared with sitting still. Anything seemed more productive than lying down and admitting complete defeat, even if that seemed like the only choice she could make.

Despite the night being clear of rain, she found the road she was travelling on to be deserted of traffic. The speakers softly boomed Hans Zimmer's hauntingly beautiful "Time" but it failed to calm her disturbed mind. Going home was also pointless; sleep would not find her tonight. When she finally turned off the car's engine, she was miles away from the Narrows. She left the car and shivered in the night's crisp air. Tucking her arms around herself, she hurried towards her destination, a place she had never expected to seek refuge. She rang the doorbell, the silence of the surrounding night pressing against her sensitive ears. She'd never felt so fragile.

'Good Lord Saoirse, you look practically frozen.' Alfred said after opening the door.

'You finally called me Saoirse…' She said in a far-away voice.

'Are you seeking Master Wayne or do you wish to pursue your project in the garage?'

'I'm here to see Bruce but he isn't aware of my arrival.' She said.

'I'll show you into the drawing room, he's usually reading at this hour.'

Saoirse followed Alfred towards the lavish drawing room, her arms still wrapped securely around her. The kind butler opened the door and was about to announce her arrival when Bruce interrupted him.

'Alfred! I need your opinion on the secret shipment for the –'

'Master Wayne, you have a visitor. May I present Saoirse Nolan.' He interrupted smoothly. If Saoirse had been in sharper form, she would have made sure to inquire about the contents of said shipment.

'S-Saoirse?' Bruce spluttered while springing lithely from the couch. 'My apologies… was I expecting you?'

'Relax Bruce, I'm trespassing on your reading time without giving you prior notice.'

'Ah.' He said with a nod.

'If you need anything Master Wayne, you know where to find me.'

'Thank you Alfred.' The butler closed the door behind him, gifting Saoirse with a wide smile before leaving.

'I'm glad you stopped by, I've been meaning to have a chat with you.' He said with a devilish smile. Saoirse's memory was slowly recounting the last time she had encountered Bruce. There had been slow-dancing involved along with a conversation containing heavily weighted silences and meaningful stares. This wasn't exactly what Saoirse had in mind when she'd stumbled into Wayne Manor looking for some solution to her devastated mind. 'Here, sit.' Bruce insisted, indicating the plush couch beside his armchair. 'You look slightly pale… are you alright?'

'I'll end any misconceptions you have about my current visit. It's nothing to do with our previous encounter in the Applied Science department… You're a sort of counsellor for me… when you feel up to it; you can really help me to clear my head...'

'You want to lay your head in my lap and tell me your woes?' He said with a cheeky smirk.

'Remember the time I told you I could never tell you the source of my anger?' Saoirse began, ignoring his playful jibe. She had no energy for such nonsense.

'Yes, and you have left me frustratingly curious ever since.'

'Well… it's to do with that.' Saoirse wasn't sure how to phrase 'the sting operation I'm involved with wants to take down a maniac serial killer who's in close proximity to my sister' eloquently. She opted for a long awkward silence instead.

'Something's happened hasn't it? Something bad…' When he bothered, Bruce was an annoyingly keen observer. Saoirse kicked off her shoes and folded her legs beneath her and crossed her arms, feeling horrendously vulnerable. She was beginning to regret her decision about coming here. 'Saoirse, I can't help you if you don't give me a clue about what's wrong.'

'Everything's falling apart.' Saoirse whispered, feeling the calamity of those words crash over her. 'And there's nothing I can do… I'm– I'm not strong enough.'

'I'm hazy on the context of this scenario but if there's one thing I know about you… it's your bewildering strength.'

'I'm not able for _this_.' Saoirse murmured, vehemently detesting the helplessness creeping into her bones.

'I was coping fine… well fine might be an optimistic outlook but I was _managing_. About an hour ago, I was given some news… this announcement makes me feel weak and hopeless. I can't see how persevering will help, there's too many variables, too many things which could go wrong.' She felt her throat constrict, words were becoming increasingly difficult to form. 'I just d-don't know what t-to do…' She managed to gasp, angrily choking the tears which dared show her vulnerability. Bruce quickly switched from his armchair to the couch and placed a hand on her shoulder, a crease formed between his eyebrows.

'Saoirse… I want you to answer me honestly, are you alright?'

'Would you like to hear the most common lie to that question, or the truth?' She managed to mutter.

'I can handle the truth.' He whispered.

'But I don't think I can. I have to remain strong, I have people depending me, I can't become overwhelmed, there's no option to be scared… I can't be frightened…' Her throat almost completely closed at the end of that sentence.

'It's alright to be afraid.' Bruce placed both of his arms on her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. 'You don't have to keep everything bottled in Saoirse, you can let it out.' His arms slid down her back and drew her closer, pulling her head against his chest. 'My father had a saying he would say to me…'He whispered into her hair. 'He used to say to me "Bruce…Why do we fall?" And he would answer it with "So we can learn to pick ourselves back up…" Let it out Saoirse, allow yourself to fall. I promise I'll help you get up again.' Saoirse was tense, feeling very uncomfortable about feeling comfortable in Bruce's embrace. She looked her fear in the eye and slowly stopped running from it. She shuddered, sunk her hands into Bruce's shirt and reluctantly removed the wall holding her emotions prisoner. Her eyes began to water and this time Saoirse allowed the tears to fall shamelessly, clinging to Bruce as sob after sob wracked her body. She'd had no idea the experience would be so raw, so long or so violent. She experienced every fear, faced her helplessness, her anger, each injustice of her life. Each provided more pain than its predecessor, washing the previously inflicted wounds with acid and inflicting new ones on previously untouched flesh.

In the longest and most painful fifteen minutes of her life, it was Bruce Wayne who held her, who offered arms of steel to support her leaden soul. When it was finally over, after the last sob had shuddered through her body, she collapsed against him. He had stopped speaking words of comfort some time ago and she found the surrounding silence beautiful after the storm she had just conquered. Bruce's heartbeat pounded near her left ear, providing a cool balm to the raw gashes on her own fickle heart. She felt his hands gently rubbing her back and released a heavy sigh of relief. She'd been dreading that confrontation ever since her witness protection had been violated.

Her head felt heavier as she raised it away from Bruce's chest, massaging her aching neck in the process. He offered her a tissue which she used to make her face slightly more decent. She blinked slowly, feeling emotionally destroyed.

'Better?' Bruce asked quietly, wiping away a stray tear which she'd missed. Saoirse nodded and balked at the sight of Bruce's destroyed shirt.

'Shit… Your shirt…' Saoirse pointed at it dumbly. Bruce merely shrugged and began unbuttoning it.

'I'm pretty sure I can afford a replacement.' He said lightly, discarding the sodden shirt. Saoirse immediately wished she hadn't said anything about the soiled garment as she found herself at the mercy of Bruce's spectacular physique. She tried to avert her puffy eyes but eventually gave in and admired the muscles instead. 'Like what you see?' Bruce asked jokingly.

'Actually, yes.' Saoirse said bluntly, smiling at Bruce's startled expression. 'Those aren't vanity muscles.' She said while pointing at his torso.

'Vanity muscles?'

'Muscles made for show but carry out no proper function. You usually see them on the front of magazines… Do you know why women are attracted to a toned midriff Bruce?' Saoirse asked calmly. Her emotional torrent had removed any traces of shyness and embarrassment. It was refreshingly liberating.

'Because they're aesthetically pleasing?' He ventured.

'No, that's just a perk. The real reason is because a toned torso indicates a man's ability to defend himself. Cavewomen would pick their mates based on their ability to protect them and any offspring they may have…' She chewed on the side of her thumb and peered up at Bruce's face again. The startled look was now replaced with intrigue.

'So you think I can defend myself.' She nodded. 'Well I suppose I can hardly take that as an insult.' He muttered while pursing his lips. 'On a slightly different note, how do you feel?'

'Exhausted. Weak. Vulnerable. Raw… but I also feel ready to begin picking myself back up.' She replied truthfully. 'Thanks.' She whispered, a sudden shyness gripping her. So much for the emotional outburst freeing her from embarrassment.

'I'm glad you let me help you… it's what I've been trying to do these past few months.'

'And you have been fighting with my infamous stubborn nature.'

'It wouldn't have been a challenge without it.' He replied smoothly. 'It's pretty late; do you want to crash here?'

'That's a kind offer.'

'It's not like I don't have the space.'

'It's nice all the same.' Saoirse glanced at the clock and realised it was indeed late. 'Don't you have that ridiculously important board meeting tomorrow?'

'Ugh… I think I'm about to have a nervous breakdown now.'

'Hey…'

'Sorry, that was insensitive. I suppose I should get some sleep to make sure I don't doze off in the boardroom… It's not like it would be my first time.'

'That isn't the worst idea you've had.'

'Goodnight Saoirse.' He murmured while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He leant forward, his lips brushing against her cheek, igniting the flesh beneath their soft touch. He began to move away, but halted when he saw the blush creeping on Saoirse's pale skin. Taking advantage of her bowed eyes; he leant in and pressed his lips gently against hers. After a few seconds of no response, he quickly broke the kiss.

'Sorry… I was completely out of line.' He muttered; her rejection stinging him as if she'd physically slapped him. He tried to make a quick getaway but a cool hand impeded his exit. Saoirse's cheeks were on fire but she was too enthralled to be embarrassed. She was only living for the moment and allowed herself to give way to her walled-up desires, ignoring logic, thought, even worry. Hands clenching in his gorgeous locks, she leaned up and tenderly kissed him. His arms soon drew her close and he kissed her back, their gentle movements quickly increasing in passion. A minute later they broke apart, both with heaving chests and shining eyes. His hand rested above her chest, smiling at the fluttering heart rate. 'You've really experienced the depths of despair and heights of ecstasy tonight.' He murmured against her forehead.

'The night certainly ended better than expected.' She admitted, her nose resting near his Adam's apple. She felt her eyes grow heavy and relaxed into his embrace, something she thought would never happen with the notorious playboy. The couch was more like a bed than a sofa, providing more than enough room for the two to lie down. Saoirse curled up against his chest as Bruce found what felt like a cashmere blanket to through over them. As she lay with his arms holding her close, she felt the beautiful realm of sleep calling to her at last.

'Bruce?' She murmured.

'Mhmm?'

Instead of muttering some cheesy line about how his embrace made her feel secure, she opted for pressing her lips against his instead. Then sleep was welcoming her back into the realm of dreams, and for a few hours, she was truly content.


	34. Chapter 34

Some miles away, an explosion demolished the side of a heavily guarded complex. Alarms whined as security hurried through the dust and debris to contain the breach. They raised their heavy machine guns and began roaring orders amongst the savage confusion. Their vision began to clear revealing a bewildering sight. Tens of men in orange jumpsuits were waddling out of the gaping wound of Gotham's prison, their eyes wide with the promise of freedom.

'BACK IN THE BUILDING OR I WILL GIVE THE COMMAND TO FIRE!' Screamed Barnaby, the officer in command. The prisoners were too hypnotized by the prospect of liberation to care what the machine gun had in store for them. 'I MEAN IT! BACK INSIDE OR YOU WILL SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!' He threw some warning shots into the air, hoping to spook the men who outnumbered his own 5-1. More warning shots brought no sense to the men thirsting for a freedom which society had denied them.

'You know, you really shouldn't make empty threats around these people…' Barnaby's head snapped to the right, gaining a visual of the prison's most celebrated madman. The face paint was smeared yet the maniacal grin remained fresh, stretched to its largest extent as a blade teased Barnaby's jugular. Barnaby tried to aim his gun but he was too clumsy, the Joker easily knocked it out of his hands.

'Ah, ah, ahhhh, don't make the game unfair now, a gun against a knife never makes for a fun contest.' The Joker daintily took the officer's cuffs from his pocket and slapped them around his wrists.

'I'll kill you.' Barnaby said through gritted teeth.

'Look around you… _officer_. By issuing these empty threats, you've ground your authority into the dust and yet you wonder… You wonder why these men don't recoil when you point your gun.' He licked his painted lips, his darkened eyes wide with excitement. By now Barnaby's subordinates were torn between stopping the prisoners escape and helping their superior. The hesitation was the opportunity the inmates had been waiting for and in groups; they took off into the surrounding landscape, some officers giving chase, others aiming their guns uncertainly at the entangled duo. 'Oh and you might want to tell your little cronies to lower their weapons, a machinegun with those shaking hands will be the end of you – not me.' Barnaby reluctantly gave the order and six machine guns were slowly placed on the ground.

'What's your angle, Joker?' The youngest officer spat.

'You think, someone like _me_, has an "agenda"?' He asked while pointing to himself. The Joker couldn't help it, he started to laugh, the abrasive sound spiking fear in every available spine. 'Sorry… but I don't.' He retrieved a small gun from his coat. 'I prefer to make things up as I go.' With decisive aim he shot all the officers before they could reach for their weapons. He still kept the knife steady beneath Barnaby's jugular while he toed one of the fresh corpses. Barnaby was yelling in anguish, his voice echoing eerily throughout the night. 'Now if we're going for a moonlit stroll, you need to keep _quiet_.' Duct tape was slapped onto his mouth and the Joker buried the nozzle of his gun between his hostage's shoulders. 'There's something you should know about me… I don't like people who walk slowly; people who move lethargically never have anywhere important to go. Now _officer… _do _you_ walk slowly?' Barnaby roughly shook his head. 'At-a-boy. You know something–' The Joker glanced at his uniform '– Barnaby? I think we're going to get on just _fine_.' The Joker peered at his watch. 'But we have to hurry; we're already late for the party.'

* * *

'Master Wayne, Master Wayne!' Alfred whispered urgently, shaking him from the land of dreams. Most would be groggy from this rough greeting but not Bruce; his eyes snapped open, his mind was alert, his body awake.

'Alfred, it's a bit early for breakfast.' Bruce muttered.

'I'm afraid we've no time for that sir.'

'What are you talking about; of course we've time for breakfast… Wayne Manor is playing host to an important guest.' He nodded towards the slumbering Saoirse, camouflaged beneath the soft blanket with only tufts of red hair giving her away.

'As delighted as I am that you managed to woo a lady with more than air between her ears, I'm afraid this can't wait.' Realising Alfred was serious; Bruce gently withdrew the arm resting beneath Saoirse's neck and followed him out of the drawing room. He made sure to kick the book he'd been reading on magnetic fields beneath an armchair en-route.

'What's so important Alfred?' Bruce asked as he followed him up the stairs.

'You'll see in a minute.' They entered the master bedroom and after making sure the door was firmly closed, Alfred switched on the television. The anchor man for Gotham's news channel was breaking the biggest story of his career.

'Good morning Gotham, it's six am. If you've just joined us I'm afraid I have some startling news; the Joker who three years ago was caught by Batman and sentenced to life imprisonment in Arkham Asylum has escaped along with forty high security prisoners. The breakout happened after an explosion tore down Arkham Asylum's East wing allowing the inmates a chance to escape. It's been confirmed that six officers are dead and officer Barnaby, the officer in command, is missing.' Bruce was staring at the television but his mind had stopped processing the Anchor-man' words.

'Master Wayne, what will you do?' Bruce looked at his oldest friend, trying to contain the tsunami of feelings churning in his mind. The Joker had almost broken him before, leaving a wound which would never quite heal, a wound which responded to the name of Rachel Dawes. He felt his throat tighten when he thought of the early grave seeking justice had provided for her. 'Are you alright?' Alfred asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

'No Alfred, I'm not. But Batman has to be strong for Gotham. He has to protect the city from the madman who almost tore her down simply because he wanted to create chaos.' Regardless of what had happened to him in the past, Bruce knew only he; and he alone; could go against this madman. 'Do you have any idea what time this happened?'

'If I were to venture a guess, I'd estimate one in the morning.'

'Where would the Joker go after escaping Arkham Asylum at such a late hour?'

'Somewhere to celebrate I imagine. I hope he doesn't blow up another hospital this time, they've only finished rebuilding Gotham General.'

'He won't go near the hospital; he has no interest destroying something which he has already torn down. He'll be headed somewhere new, the question is where – '

'–This update just in!' Bruce and Alfred quickly turned towards the television. 'The Joker along with the forty inmates broke into Gotham's museum of art last night where CCTV has shown the Joker handing out glasses of champagne, sending the prisoners into a wild frenzy around the museum. The motives for breaking into Gotham's museum of art are unclear as no important works of art were stolen. However, much damage has been caused to the museum and two priceless paintings have been destroyed beyond repair. The first is the famous "Girl with a Pearl Earring" by Johannes Vermeer and the second casualty is Van Gough's self-portrait. Both have received a make-over courtesy of the Joker.' The beautiful paintings flashed onto the screen; first the Girl with a Pearl Earring followed by Van Gogh's self-portrait. Both were soiled for eternity.

'Police are now at the museum but there isn't a trace of the Joker or any of the other prisoners.'

'That champagne was spiked with the same drug Saoirse experienced at the Wayne annual party.'

'Cerulean, Master Wayne? The one Lucius detected in her blood?'

'Exactly. And the Joker gave the drug to the inmates in order to create what he loves best: Chaos.'

'But destroying art… what sort of message does he intend to convey?'

'That beautiful things are fragile and therefore the easiest of all to dismember. Alfred call Lucius, I'm going to need every new invention up his sleeve. I need to be ready.' Alfred couldn't help noticing how tired Bruce looked contemplating the thought of facing his greatest enemy once again. 'It's too bright for Batman to go hunting for clues, I'll glean what I can from the police databases and see which direction they're headed.' He started towards his sophisticated computer and typed in some commands.

'Master Wayne?'

'Yes Alfred?'

'Shall I prepare some breakfast for you and your… _guest_?' Bruce wheeled around; astounded at forgetting his current house guest.

'Saoirse… She went straight from my mind.'

'This _is_ a rather distracting matter, sir.' Bruce ran a hand through his hair gaining a dishevelled appearance which fit him more comfortably than a strict side parting.

'No, I'll go down to her. The Joker can wait five minutes.'

'Very well, sir.'

As Bruce strolled down the stairs towards the drawing room, he felt a familiar weight settle upon his shoulders, a weight he knew wouldn't be removed until the Joker was safely behind bars. An unsettling thought plagued him as he walked the carpeted corridors; if he'd broken his one rule, the rule which separated him from the criminals, this situation wouldn't be happening. Were the lives of those six officers on his hands? Had he done Gotham an injustice by keeping that psychopath alive?

'Is there any reason you've an interest in magnetic fields?' His thoughts instantly calmed when he saw Saoirse swathed in blankets, completely unaware of the chaos outside of these walls. Her hair floated messily around her shoulders and she was peering up from the book he'd kicked under an armchair.

'It's a book Lucius left behind on one of his visits, I tried flicking through it but it's terribly boring.' Contrary to his smooth lie, the book was fascinating. It provided stand up evidence to support Saoirse's invention of drawing bullets to certain points around a body via the use of a magnetic field. If it worked, that would be one of the gadgets pivotal in his battle against the Joker.

'You look worried, is everything alright?' She asked. That was odd; his features had settled into the usual poker face which only Alfred could read.

'You haven't seen the news yet have you?' She shook her head. 'I might as well tell you… the Joker and forty other high security prisoners escaped from Arkham Asylum last night.'

'The Joker escaped… last _night_?'

'Yes.'

'Oh.' She said, frowning as if this information didn't seem correct. 'He's crazy isn't he?'

'Oh yes, completely and utterly insane… but surely you remember the extent of his madness from his last reign of terror.'

'Actually I was on Erasmus three years ago in Europe so no. I don't really know what this man is capable of.'

'In a nutshell… he blows up hospitals for fun.'

'Excellent.' Saoirse muttered darkly. 'Do you think the police or Batman will catch him?'

'Depends on who learnt more from their last encounter with him. I'd bet my estate on the police because after all, it is their _job _to catch psychopath's like him. As for Batman, I'd say he'll hinder more than help.'

'How can you say that? Batman caught the Joker the last time!'

'Yet the vigilante refused to take his mask off, concealing his identity was of a higher priority than innocent lives.'

'The Joker doesn't strike me as someone who would stop killing people after learning the identity of Batman. He'd continue doing whatever he pleased.'

'You may have a point… Listen. Promise me something.'

'What?' She asked suspiciously.

'Until the madman is caught, look after yourself Saoirse. Avoid going out at night and only keep those you trust close.'

'So stay away from you then.' Bruce chuckled, feeling slightly better about the mammoth obstacle which lay ahead of him. He sat down next to her, pulling some of the blankets around his body.

'On a far more interesting note, it seems I cured your insomnia last night.' He murmured, tucking a rogue lock of hair behind her ear.

'You make it sound like you physically exhausted me.'

'No… I'm saving that for tonight.'

'_Bruce!_' She tried to shove him off the couch but he remained immobile. 'You're terrible.' She muttered after giving up her physical assault. Quickly seizing her defeat, he kissed her before she had time to hit him again.

'I agree, I'm decisively _awful_.' He whispered against her lips, pleased by the colour rising in her cheeks. He touched the left one playfully before standing up. 'You hungry? Alfred's made some breakfast.' He helped her to her feet and deliberately retained his grip on her left hand. A small part of him whooped for joy when she didn't pull her hand away.

He had no idea Saoirse's mind was currently a war zone. In the midst of battle, screaming thoughts concerning her supposed relationship with Jimmy Junior were being attacked by this _thing _she'd embarked on with her billionaire playboy boss. She felt a duty to the Commissioner to uphold her end of the deal and yet… she couldn't find the will to wrench her hand from Bruce's.


	35. Chapter 35

'Good morning Fox.'

'I've been expecting one of your spontaneous visits Mr Wayne. How can I help?'

'Alright then, I'll cut to the chase… I was wondering if your department had produced any new equipment suitable for… freelance rock climbing.' Mr Fox observed the young billionaire over the tips of his glasses, knowing it was better to ignore his blatant lie.

'You know Mr Wayne; I think I've just the thing.' He replied while approaching his bookcase. Bruce followed him into the concealed elevator and soon the two were walking through the Applied Science department. Bruce followed the brilliant engineer through the graveyard of prototypes, wondering what his most helpful ally had to show him.

'I couldn't help noticing your absence from the board meeting this morning.' Mr Fox said.

'Did our Japanese clients mind?' Bruce asked cheerfully.

'Very much so, they've taken it as a personal insult.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'I'm sure you are Mr Wayne.' They continued in silence for a moment, Bruce hoping Mr Fox held something which would allow him to survive his inevitable encounter with the Joker.

'Fox?'

'Yes sir?'

'I'd appreciate it if Saoirse wasn't aware of my visit… we wouldn't want to arouse any of her suspicions now would we?'

'Why sir? She's seen you down here before.'

'You know I need to tread more carefully than usual.'

'I suppose that makes sense. Besides, it's her day off so I imagine we'll avoid piquing her curiosity.'

They entered his real office where Fox proceeded to demonstrate a number of inventions, some which were more helpful than others.

'What's that?' Bruce asked while pointing at a hologram image on Fox's desk.

'You always spot the good ones Mr Wayne. This is an interesting prototype which was invented by Baudelaire in Paris approximately three weeks ago. It's small enough to fit into a belt but shouldn't be underestimated because of its size. It's a laser, powerful enough to cut through ten inches of solid steel. If you had one of these, there wouldn't be a building in Gotham you couldn't get into.'

'And why is it that we only have an image of this laser instead of an actual copy?'

'The laser proved tricky to re-assemble here, the only way to access it is to go to Baudelaire's laboratory and buy it from him.'

'And that's something Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox can't be seen doing.' Bruce muttered.

'I'd agree with you on that. However, there is still the opportunity of sending Saoirse to collect the laser from Baudelaire. There would be some issues with transporting the device into the United States but –'

'–But if it were for a military project, then American security wouldn't mind.'

'Exactly Mr Wayne. How soon do you need this device?'

'As soon as possible.'

'I'll book the flights for her.'

'Have her take the private jet, it'll be faster.' He frowned while drawing the image of the hologram closer to him.

'Mr Wayne?'

'Yes Fox?'

'Last time you signed off on an army related project, a device was created which in my opinion should never have been brought into existence. This contraption was also constructed beneath the military prototypes banner. This invention went against my principals and ethics; to put it bluntly, it was _wrong_. I'm warning you now Mr Wayne; if you plan to construct something similar to what you created last time, I will not be here to help you.' Bruce nodded, wondering if Fox would agree with his risky plan or decide to leave Wayne Enterprises forever instead. He decided to do what he always did with Mr Fox: keep him in the dark.

* * *

Saoirse was in Paris. There was no other way of phrasing it, she'd woken this morning in Gotham and now she was standing on the Champs-Élysées_. _She headed towards a metro station, her mind replaying the peculiar conversation she'd held with Mr Fox where he'd briefed her on what would be her first and crucial business trip. Tomorrow evening she would be expected to obtain a device which apparently was a matter of national security. This contraption, invented by Baudelaire, needed to be safely obtained and placed in the 'Never to be used' pile in the Applied science department. She was curious to know the function of this device but was disappointed when Fox deliberately kept her in the dark. All she had been made aware of was the meeting she had tomorrow evening with Baudelaire himself who despite his arrogant disposition, could not be ignored in her field. Supposedly relations between Mr Fox and Baudelaire had broken down, hence her speedy arrival in Paris to conduct the important conference in his stead.

It wasn't long until she was back in her hotel, feeling uncomfortably out of place in a room worth thousands of dollars per night. She ignored the dazzling views from an adjacent balcony and headed towards the master chamber (yes there was more than one bedroom for her to choose from.) After face planting into bed of silken cushions and down pillows, jet lag pulled her down into an uncomfortable few hours of sleep.

* * *

Klaus Baudelaire had managed to retain his looks which Saoirse had to admit was an impressive feat for a sixty year old bachelor. He greeted her warmly with a kiss on each cheek, his stubble tickling her vulnerable skin. After sitting down, Saoirse couldn't help noticing the poorly concealed anxiety of the famous engineer, mirroring her own nervous disposition.

'Is everything alright Mr Baudelaire? You look distracted.'

'Please, call me Klaus. Your observation skills are sharp Saoirse... am I pronouncing your name correctly?' She nodded. 'Good... good. However, I'm afraid a rather unfortunate event has flung itself into the path of my precious business.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'I'm sure you are... you see last night, an important article was stolen from a place I previously thought impenetrable: my laboratory. And the item in question just so happens to be the one I know you came to persuade me to part from today. Until I have allocated the object and most importantly, found the culprit of such a heinous crime, I have no reason to conduct any business with you or Wayne Enterprise. I apologize for what appears to be a wasted trip.'

'I'm sorry to hear of your misfortune. When the item turns up, I hope you'll be kind enough to inform me.' She said while handing him a business card.

'Rest assured Saoirse, after justice has been served, you will be the first to know.' Saoirse rose to leave, her mind boggled by the twist in events. 'Oh, and Saoirse?' She turned. 'If you ever find Wayne Enterprise isn't providing a challenging enough career, I hope you remember the hospitality which was shown to you at my company. A lady with your skills could very easily find a place in this business.'

'I'm flattered but for now, I'm more than content with my job. Enjoy your evening Mr Baudelaire and also_Bon chance_.' Saoirse turned and left the building as quickly as her pencil skirt allowed. She ignored the line of taxis calling for her business as she headed towards a metro station. Her feelings towards cab drivers were still vehemently distrustful after what had happened to her and Lisbeth. She quickly stifled the memory, trying to ignore the hurt which Lisbeth had inflicted after her cowardly departure. A fight on her metro quickly pushed all those thoughts from her mind, Parisians all around yelling 'Arr_ê_te!' at the brawling duo. Saoirse was out of the flailing limbs range and found herself entertained by the spectacle instead of fearing for her safety. She supposed the enjoyment was derived from knowing if it came to it, she could knock out either of them. She managed to barge her way through the confined spectators at her stop and stumbled into her hotel a few minutes later. It seemed the French metro was just as dangerous as Gotham's own rail network after dark. She opened her apartment-like room and headed towards the phone, intending to order some dinner.

'There you are.'

Saoirse screeched while turning around, grabbing a poker from the marble fireplace in the process. She slumped against the wall when she recognised the intruder.

'B-Bruce! Why do you feel the need to give me a heart attack?' She muttered while replacing the poker. He placed the book he was reading on the coffee table and rose from the luxurious armchair.

'I meant to surprise, not alarm.' He said with an unsure smile.

'Right. Nice sentiment.' Saoirse said while trying to calm her fluttering heart. After recovering somewhat, she picked up the receiver and called reception.

'Who are you calling?'

'Room service, I'm starving. D'you want something?'

'You're joking.'

'Sorry, I didn't realise room service was so unappealing to you.'

'No, you can't be serious.' He took the phone from her hand and hung up on reception. 'We're in Parisand you want to order _room service?_'

'It's late and I'm tired.'

'I find those excuses unacceptable. Go, put on something nice on. We're going out.'

'But –'

'No, you don't have a choice in the matter.'

'Fine but before I do, would you mind answering one question?'

'Sure.'

'What exactly are you doing here Bruce?'

'I thought that was obvious.'

'Enlighten me.'

'Well, if you must know... it was to see you.'

Saoirse felt the colour rising in her face and decided to feign enthusiasm for changing her clothes instead. She hurried into her chamber, closed the door and felt the uncomfortable elevation of her heart rate pounding in her chest. To her dismay, a nearby mirror portrayed the unsettling complexion of a swooning woman. She turned and found something hanging beside the curtains. After recognising the flow of material, her bashful feelings transformed into annoyance as she wrenched it from its hanger and stormed out of the room.

'What is this?' She spat, waving the black and teal garment back and forth.

'If I'm not mistaken, it's a dress.'

'I understand it's a dress Bruce but why is it in my room?'

'It's for you to change into.' He spoke slowly as if Saoirse had suddenly gone mental.

'Why do I have to wear this?'

'Because when I was conversing with your maid earlier – lovely lady by the way – she happened to mention you lacking an evening gown in your wardrobe. So I took the liberty of supplying one for this evening.' Saoirse could only stare at Bruce's smiling face with a mixture of confusion and anger.

'I know most women would shower you with gratitude for buying them such a lovely dress... but I won't lie, this makes me uncomfortable.' She placed the garment on the couch and slowly backed away from it.

'Uncomfortable?' Bruce repeated, amusement draining from his face.

'I feel as if you're trying to... to...'

'To what?' He asked impatiently.

'To buy me.' Saoirse finished quietly; horrified not by the bluntness of her statement, but how her words triggered the anger smouldering in Bruce's eyes.

'Buy you?' His voice was barely a whisper. 'You think I'm trying to buy you?'

'I don't know what you're trying to do!' She herself couldn't understand the fury ignited over an item of clothing and could sympathise with Bruce's bewilderment. She knew her last comment had penetrated his tough exterior and wounded the vulnerable flesh beneath. Yet why she was trying to violently sabotage this night over an evening dress seemed beyond her own comprehension. Why was she doing this...?

In a flash Saoirse suddenly understood why she was letting the conversation obtain this deadly dimension. And after obtaining this comprehension, she knew she couldn't stop. This opportunity would not pass her by; regardless of how much she loathed herself for inflicting pain on Bruce, she had to see this through. It had been her own fault for allowing things to escalate in the manner that they did but Caoimhe came first. The Commissioner needed her to rekindle things with Junior and having this _thing _with Bruce was only going to stand in the way of that relationship.

'Stop it.' Saoirse raised her head, too consumed with her own thoughts to notice the tense silence filling the cavernous room. She watched Bruce uncertainly as he approached; the anger in his eyes now replaced with a guarded understanding. 'Stop it.' He repeated as he stood before her. He didn't hesitate, didn't pause to think, he just leant down and kissed her. Saoirse tried to fight but it was too overwhelming, her feelings were no longer minute sparks to be snuffed whenever she pleased. They now had a life of their own and demanded their will be abided by. He so easily dismantled every wall she tried to conceal herself behind; chasing her with a clinical precision that made her wonder if he knew where she would next hide. Her chest was heaving after he pulled away, her iron will a pathetic melted puddle at her feet. She glanced down to find her hands clenched around the collar of his expensive shirt and quickly released her grip. She felt his finger tilt her chin upwards, finding it troublesome to look into his eyes. 'I know what you're trying to do.' He murmured, his other hand sweeping her hair to the side. 'Though I must admit, it's highly unusual for someone to toss _me_ to the side; I'm more used to an arrangement where I do the tossing.' Saoirse decided against speaking, she honestly didn't know what she would say. 'Yet I must admit; I don't really understand_why_. I know you understand me well enough to know 'buying your affection' isn't how I treat someone I'm interested in.'

'I could say it's because we lack chemistry but that premise is severely undermined by what just happened.' Saoirse rubbed her hands together, trying to contain her embarrassment.

'I suppose that's a relief of sorts.'

'The timing of this...' Saoirse pointed to Bruce then to herself. 'It's spectacularly off. And if it doesn't stop now, I'll only end up sabotaging it at a point when we're far too invested in each other.' She ran a hand through his dark locks, her movements rebelling against her stoic words. 'But that's not the only reason.' She murmured.

'It's not?'

'You know I'm keeping something from you, something which can't be swept beneath the carpet and ignored.'

'What if your secret didn't bother me?'

'That's not a risk I can take as I'm not the only one it affects. You've witnessed the extent of my stubborn nature so you'll know better than to pry.'

'I had hoped that one day you would show me the same degree of loyalty.'

'There's only one person who truly commands my loyalty at present. And yet with concerns to us, my secret isn't the only problem...'

'Oh?'

'There's a lot which doesn't make sense where you're concerned Bruce. I've noticed certain aspects of your character which seem to go unnoticed by everyone else. And all of these clues... they hint towards something big, perhaps something large enough to rival my own secret.' Bruce didn't try to protest his innocence, preferring to fix his gaze firmly on the floor instead. 'How could we ever hope to build something atop rickety foundations shrouded in mystery by both parties? If we persevered, anything we created would be doomed to crumble. You can't deny this.'

'Yet I would attempt it anyway.' His eyes held something truly enchanting as he said these words.

'You think I wouldn't try?'

'No, I'm just letting you know where I am.' He replied simply. Before Saoirse knew what she was doing, she was on her tip-toes, pressing her lips against his. Yet as the pressure was returned, she felt tears burning in her eyes and an unexpected anguish twisted in her stomach.

'Hey, chin up. It's alright.' He whispered while suppressing a rogue tear.

'But it's not alright Bruce. If anything, it's unfair.'

'I know.' He said while his brow creased.

'Don't you remember the lecture I gave you about frowning and botched up plastic surgery?' She asked while smoothing the wrinkled skin.

'Perhaps I'm not as vain as the public perceives me to be.' He said with the tiniest hint of a smile. Neither spoke or looked at the other for a minute, allowing the heavy meaning of their conversation to sink in.

'You know in a few years time, you're going to look back at this scene and count your lucky stars that things finished here before any catastrophic mistakes were made.' She said.

'I sincerely doubt it.' He pushed another stray lock of hair behind her ear, enjoying the silky texture of the fiery strand before relinquishing his grasp.

'Bruce...'

'Yes?'

'If there ever comes a time in the future where we can freely speak of our concealed burdens, then perhaps... perhaps we could take the step which can't be taken now.'

'Don't toy with me Saoirse.' He said softly.

'I'm not.' He regarded her carefully and found to his surprise she wasn't lying.

'Before we go and carve any promises in stone, I have a proposition for you.' He said.

'Proceed.'

'We're in Paris...'

'I'm aware.'

'For tonight... we forget this conversation ever happened. And when we return to Gotham, if you still feel the same way... then I suppose I'll have to accept that.' Saoirse chewed the side of her thumb while eyeing the discarded garment which had triggered this mournful conversation.

'I suppose I should put on this lovely evening gown then.' She said while picking it up. Bruce's features split into a true smile, his eyes twinkling at the irony of it all. 'You may need these as well.' He added while fishing a box from beneath his previously occupied chair. The box was stamped with the jaw-dropping expensive brand 'Jimmy Choo' hinting at the contents within. Saoirse accepted the shoes without incident and retired to her chambers, slumping against the locked door in a defeated sort of way. Doing the right thing may sit well with her conscience but it didn't lessen the bruising her heart had taken.

Roughly fifteen minutes later she returned to the living room. 'So where are we going at half eleven?' She asked while running a hand through her hair.

'To see Paris.' He replied simply.

'Won't everything be closed?'

'We are no ordinary tourists Saoirse. And you look beautiful.' Her gaze quickly dropped while her cheeks flushed at the compliment.

'Are we going or what?' She asked, impatient to be out of the suddenly claustrophobic apartment. Bruce nodded while opening the door for her which she wasted no time hurrying out of. A minute later they stood silently in the elevator, Saoirse unsure of what she had agreed to for the coming night. As if in answer to her unspoken question, Bruce's arm slipped around her and his lips pressed gently against her forehead, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. By the time the lift doors reopened, the awkward tension had dissipated and only the promise of a night in Paris remained.

Two hours later, after an enchanting cruise on the river Seine complimented by a fabulously decadent dinner followed by stunning views of the Champs Elysees from a supposedly closed Arc De Triomphe, the two were strolling through the Jardin de Tuileries, enjoying the balmy evening. Few people were around at such a late hour yet Saoirse did not fear for her safety. She found herself quite relaxed in the unfamiliar territory. 'The Jardin de Tuileries is beautiful at night.' Saoirse mused as they meandered past a fountain.

'I thought it more fitting for a night time stroll compared with Pere Lachaise.'

'What's that?'

'One of the world's most famous graveyards... it's where Oscar Wilde is buried.'

'A graveyard at this hour wouldn't be the most comfortable experience.' Saoirse agreed. As they came to the end of the garden, Saoirse stopped and stared ahead.

'Is that...'

'The Louvre? It sure is.'

'It's so...'

'Big?'

'_Huge_!' A few hardcore tourists were still wielding their huge cameras at the famous 3D diamond cutting into the depths of the museum. 'I'm so annoyed I couldn't visit indoors today, apparently it's closed every Tuesday.'

'Yes, many a tourist has been disappointedly turned away by their closed doors. Only in Paris could you close the world's largest Museum on a Tuesday...' They circled the glass diamond and Bruce suddenly halted in front of the sparkling monument.

'What?'

'Do you trust me?' He asked uncertainly.

'It depends on what you're asking me to do.'

'I want you to put this on.' He handed her a piece of cloth.

'And what am I meant to do with this?'

'Use it as a blindfold.'

'_What?_'

'I know it's not the most glamorous accessory.'

'But _why_?'

'You really don't understand the concept of a 'surprise' do you?'

'Will my hands be tied?'

'Saoirse, I'm not trying to kidnap you.'

'Alright then.' She quickly tied the material around her eyes and couldn't see a darn thing. After five minutes of stumbling, floundering and almost falling over, Bruce finally gave in and decided to pick her up. A few short minutes later, Saoirse was reunited with the floor and after re-gaining her balance in those unfamiliar shoes, she walked forward a few paces.

'You ready?' Saoirse nodded, hoping Bruce wasn't about to show her an outdoor picnic where he hoped to seduce her beneath the leafy sky.

'Ta da.' He whispered while removing the blindfold. Saoirse couldn't contain a gasp, what she was seeing was impossible. Staring back at her with the most unflinching gaze... was the Mona Lisa. The world's most famous painting struck her dumb by the surprise unveiling and Saoirse could find no words to articulate her thoughts. After a few minutes of thunderstruck silence, she felt his hand squeeze her own.

'M-Mona Lisa.' She stammered. She wrenched her gaze from the painting's commanding aura and regarded Bruce with bewilderment. '_How_...?' Was all she could manage.

'I can be very persuasive when it suits me.' He said with a carefree shrug.

'She's... she's stolen my ability to speak.' Saoirse muttered.

'Good.' Bruce said as he leant down and kissed her. Saoirse knew this was something to never forget, to admire the Mona Lisa at such a late hour without tourists snapping pictures of the portrait and to share the experience with someone who for now she was romantically involved with.

'Thank you.' Saoirse whispered sincerely, wondering if the extent of her feelings could be conveyed through those two simple words.

'No problem.'

Sometime later, they found their way back to the hotel at roughly half four in the morning. Saoirse lost no time in kicking her shoes off and whooping with joy at the liberation of her feet. Bruce smiled at her antics as she proceeded to get changed from her evening gown. He took this opportunity to exit the room and make a quick phone call.

'Mr Wayne?'

'Are you sure this line is secure Fox?'

'Don't insult my intelligence Mr Wayne, I designed the phone myself.'

'Very well, just to inform you Mission Paris is a full success.'

'Oh?'

'I successfully obtained the device last night; Saoirse told me over dinner how Baudelaire didn't know who was to blame or where to begin the search.'

'So you stole the device _before _Saoirse went to inquire about obtaining it, alleviating any blame which could be placed on Wayne Enterprise.'

'Exactly.'

'I shouldn't be surprised by your ingenuity but I must admit; that was conducted in good taste.'

'Is that a compliment Fox?'

'Let's not get ahead of ourselves Mr Wayne.'

'Any news of our face-painted foe?'

'All's quiet in Gotham sir. Will you be returning soon?'

'I'll organise the jet to leave in a few hours, I should be back tomorrow.'

'I suppose I'll see you then.'

Bruce hung up and re-entered the suite. His face split into a grin when he noticed Saoirse in her pyjamas.

'Oh! I thought you'd left.' She said.

'Without saying goodnight? Your opinion of me must be abysmal.'

'You have no idea.'

'Did you have a nice night?' He asked.

'Don't be fishing for compliments now.'

'Why would I need to do that? I receive so many on a daily basis.' His eyes twinkled as she playfully pushed him away. 'I must admit, your outfit puts your evening gown to shame.'

'Stop teasing me!'

'No, I'm being serious. I prefer it.' He said honestly, his eyes flicking towards the simple tank top and chequered bottoms.

'Well... er... thanks?'

'You're welcome.' He murmured, touching her pale cheek. He reluctantly glanced at his watch and realised it was almost five am. 'The jet leaves in about six hours so I guess you should get your beauty sleep.'

'You need it more than me Bruce.'

'Clearly.' He replied with a soft smile.

'So... do you have another room or are we sharing this apartment?'

'This is the most expensive penthouse in the north of Paris, do you think I'd settle for anything less?'

'The most expensive Penthouse in the south of Paris?'

'Unfortunately it's booked.'

'What a pity!'

'Or 'Quelle dommage' as the French say. Besides, there's more than one bedroom here so there's no need to worry about anything of _that _nature.'

'Fair enough. So I guess goodnight...?' Her voice trailed off.

'Bon nuit ma belle fille.' Bruce murmured, rising and kissing her forehead gently. She turned and approached her chambers, Bruce returning to the couch where he picked up the book he had previously laid down. The door clicked shut and he managed to compose the disappointment which flexed dangerously in his stomach. He couldn't focus on the words in his book, their meaning falling on deaf ears as he re-traced the events of the previous few hours. He sat rigidly for at least half an hour, never once turning the page yet not making an effort to move from his uncomfortable position. He felt frustratingly alert, knowing sleep wouldn't come if he lay down in the adjacent room. Perhaps if he took some sleeping tablets, he could forget the oncoming return to Gotham where his happiness would be snubbed for an uncertain amount of time if not forever.

The click of a door quickly attracted his attention to Saoirse's bedroom. Her head peered round the white edge, her hair on edge from the silken pillows.

'Hi.' She whispered.

'Hi.'

'You're still awake?' She asked.

'No, I'm currently sleep-talking.' He replied with a smirk.

'I can't sleep.' She confessed.

'Is it your insomnia?' She nodded while biting her lower lip. 'I have some sleeping tablets in my bag if you want?' She shook her head. 'That's right; you don't like taking tablets if you can help it.' She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to gather the courage to say what she wanted.

'Bruce, you know I'm not the most eloquent speaker so you'll have to excuse the blunt delivery. I...'

'You what?' He asked, abandoning his book and walking towards her. She took a breath, exhaled and finally spat out the troublesome words.

'Can you help me with my insomnia? The way you did before?' She asked, her cheeks reddening slightly. Bruce stifled a chuckle, knowing her to be quite vulnerable at the moment.

'Of course.' He replied, trying to suppress his eagerness. He pushed the door open and followed the red-haired girl inside. He quickly removed his dinner jacket and shoes before hesitantly unbuttoning his shirt. Saoirse was sitting at the foot of the bed with her arms wrapped protectively around her body, her mind speeding through many thoughts. She turned her head to see Bruce leaning against the headboard, waiting expectantly. After a moment's hesitation, she crawled towards him and gladly curled up by his side, her cold hands pressing against his warm chest. The two slunk beneath the crisp sheets, Saoirse's head resting above his steady heart-rate.

'Good night Bruce.' She whispered, leaning up to kiss him for the last time.

'De beaux r_ê_ves.' He whispered as the kiss broke.


	36. Chapter 36

Bruce finished pulling on his mask and surveyed his equipment carefully. Despite still being in his cave, he could feel his heart tremble in anticipation of the coming events. Tonight, even if he had to haul it tooth by tooth out of those henchmen minions, he would finally gain the current location of the Joker. He settled into his car, took a deep breath and allowed the engine to roar into existence. He couldn't help but smile as the vibrations shook the impressive vehicle, the power beneath his fingertips waiting with bated breath for the command to lurch forward. He ran through the steps of his plan once more before allowing the vehicle to leap through the hidden exit and onto tarmac road. He sped up, urging the tumbler onwards in its greedy assault on the road. For three long weeks he had prepared for this night, he didn't have the luxury of being late.

Ten minutes later he had stealthy maneuvered the famous vehicle through the back streets of Gotham, arriving at his destination undetected. He turned the engine off and adjusted the radio, allowing it to interpret the secret conversations of the above building. Saoirse was having an important meeting with the Commissioner concerning her sting operation which he greatly disagreed with. Yet it was beyond his power to extract her from such perilous circumstances, Saoirse herself had made that crystal clear upon accepting this ridiculous mission. Despite being one of the most cool-headed and logical people he knew, she was completely irrational where her sister was concerned.

His attention snapped back to his radio when the Commissioner's tired voice floated across the air waves. 'How's the relationship going with Junior?'

'Better than expected.' Saoirse responded, her voice sounding forced.

'Now, you called me here saying you had some important information concerning the Joker. He's been a ghost for weeks which is disconcertingly out of character for him. It sets my teeth on edge knowing he's out there, waiting to strike… Do you know where he is?'

'Not where he is right now... but I can tell you where he'll be tomorrow.' Bruce sat up in the car and quickly adjusted the dials on the radio. How Saoirse had managed to extract such valuable information from that idiot was simply beyond him. Who would tell that Junior moron anything in the first place? He took a deep breath and adjusted his mask. He needed to keep his emotions under control; Saoirse had left him for this investigation in order to protect her sister... He would have to accept that and make sure his emotions didn't distract him throughout the rest of the night. After reigning in his jealousy, he settled down to listen once more.

'Where?'

'In the Narrows, the abandoned warehouse where I was held hostage. There's a deal going down tomorrow between my father's mob and what's left of the criminal world in Gotham which will be headed by the Joker. It's to do with the drug I told you about.'

'Cerulean?'

'That's the one.'

'Saoirse, this is it! The break we've finally been waiting for! If your father is caught tomorrow along with all his cronies _and _the Joker... this entire investigation will have been a success! This mess... it'll all be over.'

'Junior wants me to be there.'

'Well then, I'm afraid you'll have to go. We can't afford for you to be cast in any suspicion... not now when we're so close to the end. What time is the deal going down at?'

'10am.'

'They're doing it in the daytime to try and avoid Batman. But unlike him, the Police aren't nocturnal.' A small smile pulled at Bruce's lips.

'So tomorrow? It all ends tomorrow?' Saoirse's voice whispered, unable to believe what she was hearing.

'Tomorrow.' The Commissioner confirmed. Bruce twisted a dial and the illegal eaves-dropping device was silenced. He spent a moment re-adjusting his plan to cope with the new update before the Tumbler whisked him down a deserted alleyway towards the Narrows. It took some time for him to locate Saoirse's former warehouse, the one where her free-will had been horrendously decimated in those animal cages. After pulling up in front of the gloomy building he swiftly exited the vehicle and inspected his surroundings: all was quiet. He cautiously approached the warehouse and quickly found the backdoor he had entered undetected through last time. Inky blackness which would strike fear into most men's hearts greeted him like an old friend. There was nothing to fear from the darkness, it was only the terror of the unknown lying beneath the darkness' invisible cloak which made most afraid.

The cloak dangerously slashed the air behind him as he ventured into the depths of the warehouse, listening for any sound of inhabitants hiding in its shadow. He had circled the dark heart of the cavernous room twice before determining no-one was home. He switched off his night-time vision goggles and set about planting some hidden camera and audio devices. They may prove the difference between the freedom or imprisonment of Michael Conlon. He strode purposefully around the warehouse now, comfortable he was alone. Yet it was after he'd cleverly concealed one of the last cameras when he heard the clumsy footsteps outside. He ignored the instinct to freeze and hurriedly concealed himself behind a cage. Just as he became indistinguishable from his surroundings, the lights flicked on, chasing the shadows into the furthest recesses of the warehouse. Eight men shuffled clumsily into the room and Bruce's blood pounded when he recognized his face-painted foe leading the charge. He restrained the battle cry dying to be released from his throat and subdued the revenge which reared its ugly head, demanding justice for Rachel's death. He cleared his mind and focused on the best form of action… it seemed he would have to escape undetected from this warehouse. If he didn't, all plans concerning the Police's conclusion to its sting operation tomorrow would be ruined.

He surveyed his surroundings and placed his bet on a shattered window some fifteen feet from his hiding place. The shadows were thick around the window but there was an unnervingly bright ray of light slicing through the darkness. It meant he would have to risk revealing himself as he careered towards this emergency exit. He slowed his breathing and was checking to see if the coast was clear before dashing out of the warehouse when he saw something which made him freeze. He shook himself from his static position and stealthy approached the very men he had been trying to escape from. Upon closer inspection, Bruce realized with mounting alarm that his initial suspicion had been correct. The guard which the Joker had kidnapped from Gotham's Museum of Art some three weeks ago was bound and gagged in one of the animal cages.

'No, no, no, no, _no_. This simply isn't acceptable! My lips have to be painted red not _purple_.' The Joker said, holding a tin of purple face paint in his palm. He dipped his thumb into the sticky substance and placed a thumbprint on his trembling henchmen's forehead.

'I-I'm so s-sorry –'

'Sorry? You're _sorry_? Well I suppose that makes it alright then.' He wiped the paint on his jacket before yanking a gun from his pocket and placing a bullet between his minion's eyes. The purple thumbprint was quickly lost in the mini-tsunami of blood which oozed from the collapsed corpse. Everyone stopped working for a moment and stared at their leader with fearful eyes. 'Well? What are you waiting for? Will one of you _fine _gentleman fetch me some red paint! And if I were you, I wouldn't come back with the wrong colour unless… well…you want to end up like your friend here.' He gestured casually to the dead body. The youngest of the mentally unstable quickly headed towards the exit, completely ignoring his fallen comrade as he stepped around the pool of blood. The Joker approached his hostage's cage and tapped on the rusted bars with the barrel of his gun. After striking the bars thirteen times, he leaned forwards and carelessly threw the gun away. 'Hi _Barnaby. _How you doin' in there? Feeling a little left out? How about I come in there and we have a little chat.' Bruce adjusted his position and silently switched places with the adjacent cage so he was directly behind the hostage's one. The fabric concealing his presence was thin; he could hear Barnaby's distressed breathing. 'Now, I'm going to let you in on a little secret Barnaby. It's to do with the whole war-paint thing I've got going on. Frankly everyone's at a loss as to how the red stays so perfectly on my lips and scars, it takes a lot for it to rub off.' After some shuffling around, he finally sat on what sounded like an upturned bucket. 'You see… it's all about _balance_. I use red paint but it doesn't have the right… _feel _to it, you know? It lacks… what's the word I'm looking for… _character! _So what I do is very simple; I take the red paint and I apply a _little _bit of a twist to the liquid by adding some of my own favourite red liquid. Do you know what that might be Barnaby?' Bruce could hear him shaking his head. '_Guess_.' The Joker hissed.

'Cranberry juice?' Barnaby asked hopefully, his reply receiving howls of maniacal laughter from the Joker.

'_Cranberry juice? _Oh Barnaby… not the sharpest weapon in the drawer I'm afraid. But not to worry, I've got a knife that will slice open your jugular as if it were made of butter. And when your blood is _oozing _from that clean cut, you'll have the honour of knowing it was _your_ blood which I used to highlight my scars.' Barnaby let loose a muffled yelp. 'Oh… you look scared Barnaby. But you don't have to be afraid of me_… I'm_ not going to hurt you… no, no, no Barnaby, I'm only going to _kill _you.' Another moan of anguish. 'Hey… shush shush shush shush! You're a stand-up guy Barnaby; I mean really, even with a name like _Barnaby, _you manage to pull it off. And that's why I'm going to make your death nice and _quick_. After all, what are friends for?'

Bruce had had enough. He climbed gingerly onto the roof of the cage and before the Joker's minions had time to look up, he was already bearing down upon them, his bat wings melting into the surrounding darkness. He landed correctly and had quickly despatched of the remaining six escaped convicts before quickly rising. He turned slowly and faced the cage where the Joker was eagerly pressing a knife against Barnaby's neck. 'Oh good, you made it. I wasn't sure which address to send the invite to. Though I must admit, you _are _a little early. The party doesn't start until 10am tomorrow. Now I know you prefer night-time and I tried to get the new uptight boss to change it, but he was too busy being the alpha male to hear me out.'

'Let him go, this is between you and me.'

'You see, that's where you were always wrong… it was _never _just between you and me, it was always you trying to distract me from fighting with your precious _city_.'

'Let him go or I'll behead you.'

'Beheading someone who's twenty feet away and behind bars of s_teel _is even a little out of _your _league.

'I wouldn't be so sure.' Bruce unhooked Baudelaire's laser device and aimed it at the cage. The red beam easily traversed the distance separating him from the cage and passed through the steel bars as if they were made of cotton candy. 'If it has such an effect on steel, imagine what it'll do to your _flesh_.' Bruce growled.

'You with your finicky gadgets, always trying to disrupt our fun.' The Joker muttered as he roughly shoved Barnaby to the ground. He unlocked the cage door and stood grinning before his cloaked enemy. 'I can tell you're fighting with all your emotions… and I _know _you missed having me around. I mean, with only cold asses such as that Irish brat Conlon running things, you must be _pretty _bored.' Barnaby scrambled out of the cage and pelted towards the exit, his running almost comical due to his bound wrists. Bruce's gaze never left the Joker; he was the most unpredictable foe he had ever come into contact with, easily making him the most dangerous.

'What are you going to do with all this Cerulean?' Bruce asked.

'Redecorate the city, Gotham looks so _glum _at this time of year, some blue powder should create a _lovely _atmosphere.'

'_Tell me_.' Bruce growled, sweeping forwards and lifting the Joker off his feet.

'You should know from the last time we shared an interrogation room that unlike the other cowards in the rest of your precious city, _I'm _not afraid of your strength. You know as well as I that you have _nothing_ to threaten me with.' Bruce threw him to the ground and stepped backwards, trying to re-gain control of his emotions. The Joker peered up from his crouched position, his lips pursed in confusion. 'You're not going to do it, are you?' He asked.

'Do _what_?'

'Kill me.'

'I will _never _lower myself to your level.'

The Joker propped himself up onto his elbow. 'You still have your _one _rule, don't you? The one which separates you from the mob bosses you play cops and robbers with.' He gingerly sat up. 'How many times do I have to tell you, you're _not _one of them.'

'One of what?' Bruce asked, his temper slowly cooling.

'An enforcer of the law… part of the justice _team_. You see, a guy like you could never have joined the police academy, gone through the corrupted motions until you eventually wrestled power from some donut-loving fool sitting behind a desk. No, no, _no_. That wasn't enough to satisfy your vision for Gotham… not to mention your love of violence.'

'I don't have to justify myself to you.'

'Well if not to me, then _who_? No-one in this city understands you like _I_ do. You're only trying to obey your most natural carnal instinct. You see these people you hunt, or criminals as you brand them, they were defected from birth, polluted by the corruption of this city. If natural selection had its way these men would be _dead_. But unfortunately for the likes of you and me, our race has managed to pull the wool over mother-nature's eyes leaving it up to us to restore the balance. We're like ark angels from Darwin, here to ensure the _survival of the fittest._' Bruce grabbed the Joker and upended him onto one of the surrounding steel tables. He allowed his resolve to weaken and swiped the Joker with an old-fashioned one/two combination. The joker crumpled beneath the blows but continued to laugh maniacally. 'Oh no, don't stop _now_. Just give in, keep hitting me; allow your strength to spirit your anger away! I know you've got it in you; I can see your "noble intentions" trying to hold him back. Come on, don't be shy, I want to meet your darker side, he's always _just_ below the surface when I'm around.' He crawled to his feet and made a show of fixing his hair. 'Come _on_, we're in a deserted warehouse! Who's going to see you rip my head off and dance over my bleeding body? You know… maybe if you stop fighting with yourself you can actually escape the loneliness which plagues your_ entire_ existence.'

'It's not me who's lost in solitude. You're alone because all you have is darkness. You try to bring everyone down to your level in order to prove that you aren't a blemish on the entire human race.'

'Preach all you want, but all these noble intentions aren't going to beat me_ or _allow this city to accept you.'

'I'm tired of your madness Joker; it's time for you to go back to the nuthouse.'

'Back to Arkham? Oh, you really wouldn't think I'd go back _there_ now would you?'

'I suppose I'll have to employ some force in order to ensure your co-operation.'

'_Now_ you sound like a cop!' Bruce stood before the Joker, wondering why such a destructive beast had come into his life once again. Did someone like this deserve to live? Was it justice that he survived with all the innocent blood on his hands?

'Hands out.'

'You think I'm going to come quietly? _Me_?'

'If you've forgotten, I'd take some satisfaction in reminding you how our last fist-fight ended.'

'Exchanging blows is of no interest to me, where's the _fun_? The _excitement? _You can't kill me then and you won't kill me now. I must say I am disappointed, it's clear to me that you haven't grown at all… Yet I suppose that's only to be expected seeing as you lacked your ideal opponent: _me_.'

'Let's go.' Bruce said after disarming the Joker and quickly cuffing his wrists.

'Ah, ah, _ah_. I don't think so.'

'You don't have a choice.'

'Don't you understand? When I say I'm not going back to Arkham… I mean it. You think I'd let you just chaperone me away without the _tiniest _hint of a fight? BOYS! PAPA'S GOT A PROBLEM HE NEEDS FIXING!' He suddenly roared. That's when Bruce heard it, the pounding of feet outside, the rest of the mad henchmen the Joker had freed from Arkham. He wrenched open a nearby cage, stuffed the Joker inside and locked it. Instead of hiding in the shadows as would be his usual plan, he sprinted for the entrance, looking to meet the confused men in a head-on collision. The door was flung open and soon Bruce was losing count of how many henchmen he'd knocked unconscious. Another few bodies collapsed when he turned to deal with the men behind. Six machine guns were aimed at him, enough gun-power to kill him even with his armour. For a split second no-one moved. It gave Bruce just enough time to activate Saoirse's device before the men opened fire. After thirty seconds of deafening gunshots, the men stopped shooting and stared at Bruce in amazement. He couldn't help but smile, they all had pretty good aim, it seemed ridiculous that out of the volley of bullets which had been released in his general direction; not one had hit him. He looked at the wall behind him to see the bullets concentrated to certain points, bending to the will of the powerful magnetic field. He turned to see the men drop their guns and try to flee. He caught them all before they'd made it halfway across the warehouse and threw their unconscious bodies beside the earlier dispatched ones. He slowly returned to the Joker's cage and leaned casually against the bars.

'Time to go.' He growled once again. The Joker fixed him with a loathsome look before reluctantly leaving the cage.

'You know, maybe we could share a cell this time, I bet your head would fascinate the "doctors" in Arkham.' They were almost at the entrance to the warehouse, Bruce keeping an eye out for any other intruders. As they opened the door all was still and silent in the inky black night. Bruce made a start towards the Tumbler, wondering if he should knock the Joker out before driving him to the station.

'SURPRISE!' Bellowed a voice. Before Bruce had time to react, a figure was hurtling towards them from the roof, falling at a high speed which meant he didn't have time to move out of the way. The figure walloped him to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs and badly bruising his back. Just as he tried to stumble to his feet, the Joker took off at an impressive speed for someone who was cuffed. Amazingly, the suicidal figure was back on his feet and was observing Bruce with hateful eyes. It was the youth who had left to buy the red face paint earlier. Bruce saw what looked like a grenade in one of his hands and did his best to dive out of the way as its pin was already removed. A massive explosion shook the ground but it was not the type of power which tore people limb from limb. As he lay stunned on his back, he noticed the surrounding air was permeated with electric blue particles, like dust. He couldn't use his hand to cover his mouth from inhaling the toxic hallucinogen and soon felt the drug enter his body. His vision blurred and he tried to close his eyes to stop seeing things which he knew weren't real.

* * *

Saoirse was still driving. She should have been home hours ago but the tantalizing fact that all of her misery could be finished tomorrow was something which kept her restless. After circling Gotham's safer roads, she finally gave in and looped onto a narrow alley, heading for the Narrows. She locked her doors and made sure to keep up a constant speed, regardless of what colour the traffic light said. After twenty minutes of tense driving, she found herself on a deserted road leading to the warehouses she had been kept prisoner in some time ago. She pushed the accelerator down and promised she would sweep around the industrial estate once before going home. It was stupid that she was doing this in the first place; she didn't want to get caught by anyone.

The car purred onwards and as she approached the warehouses, she turned off her lights and managed to navigate her way around the warehouses by the dawn's weak light. After some time re-tracing her steps, she found the correct storage unit. She paused in front of it for a moment, looking to take in the calm before the storm. Just as she was about to leave the deserted place, she noticed something from the corner of her eye. Something _blue_. Against her better instinct, she unlocked the car door, took out the gun Junior had given her and approached the building. The entrance was flung open and there were two bodies lying in a pool of blue powder in its wake. Saoirse bent down and scooped some of the powder onto her fingertips. There was no doubting what it was. She flicked the powder away and stepped over one of the still bodies, looking to seek answers to what had happened here. She continued onwards and was about to go around the other body when she noticed it was clad in strange clothing. She squinted in the poor light and terror gripped her when she recognized the armour.

'_B-Batman_?' She stuttered incredulously. She dropped to her knees and placed her ear against his mouth, praying for him to be breathing. Relief flooded her heart when his raspy breath registered and she immediately went into action. Any scene where Batman was lying unconscious in a pool of cerulean was not one to hang around in. She ran back to her car, brought it as close to the pool as she could and began the difficult process of dragging Batman's body into her backseat. She couldn't leave him there, not after everything he'd done for her and Gotham.

A tense few minutes later, she was out of the warehouse and speeding down a motorway, her mind buzzing with questions. Her main aim was to put as much distance between her and those warehouses as was possible and as the miles continued to peel by, she realised she had no idea what her next step should be. She couldn't take him home, trying to drag his unconscious body up three flights of stairs was out of the question, she couldn't take him to the Applied Science department; the security was out of her control until she was in the department itself. Perhaps the station? But what would they do with an unconscious Batman? Put him in the infirmary, patch him up and let him go home without having to take his mask off? No… the best thing she could do for the moment would be to drive and hope he would wake up before she had to return to the warehouse in a few hours.

Around two hours later, Saoirse had paused on a deserted road some five miles from the cities centre. She craned her head around for the hundredth time to peer at the sleeping legend, being able to take note of many characteristics she had never had the time to notice before. His armour for one, was incredibly sophisticated. This had escaped her in the past due to the material being cloaked almost constantly in shadow. And his cloak was immobile for now yet she knew it could easily support his weight in flight.

Yet despite the fancy equipment, it was the face which still captured her attention. The sharp eyes were closed and the jaw was relaxed. Even under such unusual circumstances, she couldn't begin to fathom who it was which hid beneath the mask. Curiosity was burning… she could feel it implore every fibre in her body to discover the greatest mystery of Gotham: the identity of the Batman. She found her fingers extending towards the ferocious-looking mask, her hand inching its way closer to the seam which separated it from the rest of the suit. It was a mere inch away from unveiling the face of Gotham's guardian when she paused. She relinquished her grasp and settled on placing her hand on his shoulder. 'You keep your identity Batman. I don't want your privacy to be breached in the same way mine was.' She withdrew to the front of the car, opened the door and sat on its bonnet, horrified by the atrocious action she'd almost committed. Looking to distract herself, she decided to watch the sun rise over the glittering towers of Gotham and forced herself to think on hat the new day would bring. Sometime later, she returned to the driver's seat where she allowed herself to stretch contently. She turned to check on her slumbering passenger and nearly jumped a foot when she saw his open eyes. 'You're awake.' Was all she could manage. He slowly rose and held his masked face between his hands as if he were suffering from a sickening headache. Which he was.

'How did I get here?'

'Coincidence. I was in the wrong place at the right time.'

'You were at the warehouses?'

'Exactly.'

'How long was I out?'

'Few hours… honestly I'm amazed. I was out for two days when I came into contact with that stuff.'

'It must be less potent if ingested orally.' Batman muttered.

'Maybe… oh and eh…' His gaze flicked back to hers. 'Your mask… I didn't touch it when you were asleep. So I still don't have any idea who you are.'

'I'm aware.'

'But how –'

'Because if you _did_ remove my mask, you would be unconscious in a puddle of your own vomit due to the electric shock you'd have received.'

'Oh.' His eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard and he immediately forced himself into a properly seated position.

'I need to pick up my car.'

'Where is it?'

'About a quarter mile from the warehouses.'

'Fine, sit back, relax and we'll get it.'

'It's too dangerous -' Saoirse turned around and fixed her gaze unflinchingly on him.

'Stop with such nonsense, I have no time for it. Lie down so no-one will see you and we'll retrieve possibly the greatest vehicle in the world. End of story.' Saoirse turned on the engine, turned the car a hundred and eighty degrees and headed back towards the one place she really didn't want to return to.

* * *

The Joker stooped over the now dead body of his fallen comrade. He plucked the red face-paint from his pocket and tutted at the empty space where Batman had originally fallen. His feet crunched through the blue powder and after entering through the abandoned door, he flicked on the lights inside the warehouse. He had seen something quite interesting while locked for that small amount of time in a cage and proceeded over to where his interest had been piqued. It was the wall adjacent to where Batman had miraculously avoided six machine gun rounds of fire. He peered inside a crevice in the old wall and after rummaging around for a moment, he withdrew a wire with a small lens on the side.

'Well, well, w_ell_. What have we here?'


	37. Chapter 37

Saoirse was staring at the news, her forgotten spoon of cornflakes hovering halfway to her mouth. As the hazy video clip replayed itself on the expensive screen, ideas started forming in her mind, unthinkable,_impossible _notions...

And yet...

Her spoon clattered loudly against the glass bowl as she stood up and hurriedly dragged a hoodie over her head, almost running into the wall in her haste to leave. As she ascended the many floors of Wayne Tower, her thoughts were pounding painfully as they pelted around the inside of her skull. She felt dizzier as the elevator continued to rise, not yet believing the inevitable conclusion she was drawing. If what she had seen on the news was true... then that would mean it had been hers... No-one else could have been responsible... and if it _had _been hers... then that would mean –

Speculating was useless, she needed to get hold of Lucius Fox and have her theory proved or disproved once and for all. The elevator doors soon opened and as she hurtled along the corridor, she knocked a stack of papers from some employee's hands which sent files flying all over the place. Cursing beneath her breath, she scrunched some of the surrounding papers together and handed the grubby wad back to the disgruntled employee before setting off for the board room. She walked into the secretary's office who's initial smile faded when she realised Saoirse wasn't going to wait for the meeting to adjourn. 'Ms Nolan, if you'd kindly wait –' But her sentence was cut short as Saoirse flung open the double doors and strode into the packed board room. One of the board members was making an incredibly dull presentation on the profit margin of Wayne Enterprise but stopped upon seeing the scruffy intruder. Saoirse's eyes didn't stray from Mr Fox once she'd located his position near the top of the table.

'Is everything alright Ms Nolan?' He asked calmly as if her intrusion had been a scheduled visit.

'I need to speak with you.' She replied coldly.

'Concerning...?'

'An emergency which only you can help me to solve.'

'Saoirse, surly this can wait till the meeting finishes?' Saoirse's gaze didn't stray from Mr Fox's, but she recognised the velvety voice instantly. Bruce was sitting at the head of the table, looking completely nonplussed by this change in events. 'Feel free to draw yourself a chair; you may be able to point out some of the mistakes my employees have carelessly made in their calculations.' Saoirse was so thrown by what she had seen on the news that she didn't acknowledge Bruce's words, her gaze remained fixated on Mr Fox.

'You know I wouldn't ask if it was something I could solve on my own.' She said quietly. Mr Fox surveyed the rest of the board for a moment, his gaze finally resting on Bruce. Bruce nodded after a moment of silent communication.

'It actually works in my favour that this meeting ends early; I have some things to do at Wayne Manor.' Bruce said while shrugging, ignoring the looks of dissatisfaction from his fellow board members, especially the man who was in the middle of his presentation.

'Very well.' Fox murmured as he rose. Two minutes later, they were striding down the carpeted corridor, Saoirse's head spinning as she tried to put into words a theory which sounded so ridiculous that once voiced, the consequences may include being carted off to Arkham Asylum on the grounds that she had gone mental. 'Ms Nolan, what seems to be the problem?' Mr Fox asked, making her jump.

'Not here.' She muttered and continued towards Mr Fox's Office. In a second they were in the concealed elevator and heading towards the Applied Science Department, Saoirse trying to ignore the worried looks Mr Fox kept shooting at her. Her heart was pounding less erratically, though her ears felt strangely clogged as if she had been underwater for the past half an hour. As the lift eventually slowed to a halt and opened its doors, Saoirse stalked towards the table where she had abandoned her cereal and pointed at the T.V set. 'That. That's what's wrong.' She said testily. Mr Fox picked up the remote and turned up the volume, allowing the nasal voice of the anchorwoman to permeate the large room.

'...the footage submitted by an anonymous informant has created shockwaves around the country today. Clearly shown is Batman being attacked by a volley of bullets but instead of being torn to shreds, the bullets deflect from his body as if repelled by some invisible force to certain areas on the wall behind him. Experts are suggesting powerful magnetism is disrupting the bullets direction, pulling them to certain areas and allowing the Batman to escape from harm. This display has piqued the interest in the United States Military who are appalled that such a device exists and is not in their control...' Saoirse rounded on Fox as he suddenly muted the broadcast. He wore a very grim expression, looking much older than usual. Neither spoke for a moment and Saoirse realised this silence meant her theory was not as ludicrous as she had initially thought.

'The only person who has ever created a device which can successfully deflect live bullets... is me.' Saoirse said quietly. Mr Fox's face was hardened; he seemed to be doing some very quick thinking. The crease between his brows was so absolute; it seemed it would remain on his face for the rest of his days. 'Don't lie to me Lucius, that contraption on the news... the one Batman _used_, is identical to the one I demonstrated to you after I created it. If I go over to Block B and search for it... am I going to find it there?' Her voice was barely a whisper now. After a few tense minutes, the muscles had relaxed on Fox's face, the crease smoothing into the rest of his dark skin. His eyes held a shrewd look as he surveyed her, obviously calculating how much he should or should not say. Instead of answering Saoirse's query, he strode towards Block B and after a moment of fidgeting, opened the drawer containing Saoirse's prototypes. A lead weight slipped into Saoirse's stomach when the case was opened and the padded interior yielded an empty core. She placed a hand on one of the nearby shelves to keep her steady on her feet. 'You mean to tell me... that I... my invention... he had access... he _used_...'

'Yes.' Fox reluctantly admitted. Saoirse ogled Fox for a moment, trying to ignore the fact that her slightly ajar mouth was giving her the look of a deranged person. Fox took a deep breath and plunged headfirst into his story. 'Look around you Saoirse... this entire wing isn't only dedicated to the obtaining of dangerous weapons and hiding them from the American Military; it has a far more noble function than that.' He began quietly.

'We supply his gadgets and weapons...?' Saoirse asked weakly, unable to properly process what Fox was saying.

'More than that. This is his baby, his eyes and ears, the golden egg of all his information. Without this place, he wouldn't be able to function very well as Batman.'

'B-But...the T-Tumbler, the suit...'

'Who do you know in Gotham who has the talent and not to mention the facilities to create such feats of engineering?' Mr Fox asked with a quirked brow. 'If you don't believe me, pull a few files from the archives, you'll find the necessary sketches to back up my answer.' He finished impatiently.

'Y-You...?'

'Yes. Me. And now it seems, also you.'

'But I –'

'You were indirectly involved but you were too smart to let something this obvious pass you by. And now my position has been compromised as I had to divulge this top secret information to you.'

'We... I... '

'Saoirse you must promise you will not tell another soul about this. Your department along with your dream job will be snuffed forever if you do. And though I hate to admit it, the police are no match for the Joker; Batman needs the necessary equipment he has here in order to return him to the asylum.' Saoirse said nothing, preferring to stare glumly at the floor instead. Confirming her theory had provided no sense of triumph whatsoever. Only the converse was true, she was feeling exceedingly anxious about her hypothesis being proven and the impeding consequences which were surely on the way. 'Saoirse?'

'So what you're asking me...' She began slowly. '...is to keep his secret?'

'I know for a fact this isn't the way he wanted you to find out... but Mr Wayne can have no say in the matter at this late stage.' Fox closed the lid of the empty casket and closed the drawer once more. He began walking away but stopped when he realised Saoirse wasn't following him. He turned to find her rooted to the spot, her brow creased in concentration.

'Why would it matter to Bruce if he knew I was aware that this department makes weapons for Batman?' She murmured to herself. Her bewildered eyes met Mr Fox's and she could see from his startled expression that he had assumed she'd known more than she had. Ten confused seconds passed until her eyes widened as if a horrific realisation had dawned on her. She felt her eyes water as the pieces fell into their unlikely places. 'Bruce Wayne... is..._Batman_...?' She said breathlessly, awe and shock mingling on her features. The astronomical proportions of this epiphany were staggering. She glanced up to find her realisation confirmed by Fox's facial expression. He looked positively livid, clearly furious with himself for assuming Saoirse had already figured out this crucial element of Batman's secret. Her blood pounding loudly in her ears, Saoirse sprang from her seat and pelted towards the concealed elevator, knowing unconsciously that it was essential she escaped from Fox's presence before anything happened which would be outside of her own control. She slammed the door shut and pressed herself against the side of the elevator, her chest still heaving as the elevator began to rise, leaving Fox behind. All thoughts of what would happen next were violently pushed asunder, the only thought bashing around her skull consisted of three words: _Bruce is Batman, Bruce is Batman, Bruce is Batman..._

She nearly fell out of the elevator in Mr Fox's pretend office but quickly hurtled towards the elevator which would take her down to the main lobby. Just as she was about to press the button, her hand withdrew sharply as if it had been electrocuted. She peered down through the glass doors and could see the passengers through the clear walls of the rising elevator. None of them were average Wayne Enterprise employees; they looked as if they were all from the security section. What were they doing coming all the way up here?

Then it hit her, they were searching for _her. _Fox had probably told them that she needed to be found as she had valuable information concerning Wayne Tower. Hurrying away from the elevator and doing her best not to panic, Saoirse burst through the emergency stair doorway and hurried down a few flights of stairs. She proceeded to fumble in her rucksack and produced one of her latest creations, a very slim but sturdy harness. She quickly attached it to the front of her jeans and then looped the opposite end around the highly polished oak banister. Ignoring the long drop beneath her, Saoirse hoisted herself over the railing and steadily placed both feet on the outskirts of the steps. She tugged on the harness and was pleased to see that it held nicely. Swallowing any remnants of fear, she gently pushed off from the banister and allowed herself to dangle in midair for a few seconds. She tucked her elbows and legs in before hitting a button around her waist and allowing a huge surplus of slack wire to escape from the front of her jeans. There was a slight delayed reaction before she was suddenly rocketing towards the far away ground, floors of stairs blurring past her as she descended the many levels of Wayne Tower. Less than twenty seconds later, she pressed another button and the contraption skidded to an uncomfortable halt, Saoirse finding herself some three stories from the ground floor. She swung herself onto the railing, unclipped her harness and hurtled down the last remaining flights of stairs, her legs feeling more like jelly with each hurried step. She found herself in the Wayne Tower lobby and had to almost physically restrain herself from running out towards the gloomy Wednesday morning. She walked as nonchalantly as she could manage; her eyes peeled for any trace of security guards or Mr Fox. She reached the revolving doors without incident and quickly hurried through them. It wasn't long before she was in her car hurtling towards the one place which held answers: Wayne Manor.

Some twenty minutes later, she abandoned her car on the crunchy drive and hurried up the steps towards the magnificent manor. The doorbell was clanging loudly within seconds but no smiling butler greeted her at the door. Se rang again but no change. Saoirse hadn't come all this way to be ignored so she circled the house, looking for an easy way to get inside. After some snooping, she was able to negotiate a pair of windows open and stepped inside the old house. After closing the windows, she immediately began her search for the master of the house. 'BRUCE? WHERE ARE YOU? WE NEED TO TALK!' She called as she passed from room to luxurious room, wondering where he could be hiding. The kitchen revealed nothing but well stocked cupboards and freezers, the breakfast room was deserted and his usual reading haunt was also empty. She went upstairs, searched the library thoroughly and realised there might be the faint possibility that Bruce wasn't hiding from her, he was simply absent from home. She found herself inside an adjoining smaller room holding a few small bookshelves and a magnificent piano and decided to wait for his return in here. She sat in one of the plush armchairs and drummed her fingers on the armrest with obvious impatience. As her mind returned to the mind-boggling epiphany concerning Bruce, some of her certainty began to leak away. Was this perhaps all part of some elaborate joke? Though April 1st was nowhere in sight, she wouldn't put it past Bruce to pull something like this. How could Bruce be Batman? He didn't seem to possess the moral fibre necessary to carry the enormous burden which the Dark Knight shouldered almost every evening. Granted having access to the correct equipment seemed to fall in Bruce's favour but was it possible that he possessed the chivalrous and noble character necessary to don the cowl and cape? It seemed preposterous to think that it had been Bruce who had come to Saoirse's aid during the Taxi driver incident, that it had been Bruce who had constantly been on the roof of the Police headquarters, offering her advice on how to deal with the cops, that it had been Bruce who had come to help her escape from the warehouse where her father had kept her prisoner... If she had unmasked him when he was unconscious in the back of her car, would the handsome face of the playboy billionaire been revealed? Saoirse had unearthed some surprising aspects concerning Bruce's character but how deep did these revelations go? And if by some bizarre twist of fate that Batman _was _Bruce, why, _why _had he taken such a rash stance against the criminal underworld of Gotham? What had driven him to such extreme methods?

Saoirse's head felt as if it would explode with the furious tumult of questions angrily circulating in her head. She rose and approached the piano, allowing her fingers to trace the ivory keys of the; she had always yearned to play but had never been taught how. Just as she was about to draw her fingers away and be assaulted by fresh waves of confused bewilderment, she felt a small irregularity beneath her fingertips. She paused, her fingers resting on two adjacent keys which felt significantly worse for wear compared with their gleaming counterparts. Saoirse ran her fingers over the ivory keys again, feeling the distinct worn away pattern which these two particular keys possessed. It was as if someone had repeatedly pressed these two keys together and had no interest in pressing the others surrounding them. She pressed them down, the notes clashing due to being only a tone apart but nothing extraordinary happened. Her fingertips left these curious keys and traced upwards to the higher ranges. To her astonishment, some octave and a half higher, two keys side by side were also significantly well worn compared with their neighbours. She pressed these keys down as well wondering why someone had repeatedly pressed them until the ivory had slightly worn away. Saoirse allowed her fingers to stray even higher until she felt one last duo of notes which had also been pressed together many times before. Her fingers stretched up and down the keyboard a few more times, each time confirming the trio of two side by side notes which had received a huge amount of attention compared with the rest of the piano. She softly pressed them each in turn, her curiosity alight. Just as her fingers pressed down the highest pitched duo, there was a soft click ahead of her. Saoirse's eyes snapped up and she saw a secret door swing inwards, inviting her into the mysterious depths of Wayne Manor. She tried to contain her amazement at this twist in events but failed miserably, far too many strange encounters had happened today. She approached the door with caution; the path ahead lay cloaked in shadow. She retrieved her phone, activated the flashlight and set off down the hidden passage.


	38. Chapter 38

Saoirse peered through the darkened passage, wondering why Bruce would need a secret doorway. What was he hiding from public view? She squared her shoulders and pursued the roughly hewn passage, the light of the piano room quickly fading from view. The stillness of the passage clashed magnificently with Saoirse's whirring thoughts, her blood pounding erratically as her muffled footsteps brought her further into the depths of Wayne Manor. The path was sloping downwards and after ten minutes of steady descent, Saoirse presumed she was now far below the battlements of Wayne Manor. She ignored the sudden claustrophobia which reared its ugly head at this conclusion, she could not allow herself to fall into a panicked state, not after she had come this far...

Suddenly the stone floor ceased to descend, the flat plain stretched out invitingly and after a quick glance around the tunnel, Saoirse hurried onwards. Her curiosity was inflamed, she had to know what was hiding at the end of this passage, perhaps she would find Bruce himself curled up in a place he thought impenetrable. A grim smile pulled at Saoirse's lips when she envisioned his reaction to such a breach of his sacred sanctuary. Another tense few minutes sidled by until she could perceive the tunnel widening some metres ahead and unless her ears were very much mistaken, an odd chirping sound was also discernible through the gloom. As the din increased, her footsteps began to falter; what on earth lay beyond this passage?

And suddenly the torch on her phone was completely useless, sensor lights had been triggered and Saoirse's mouth fell open as a room the size of two cathedrals was slowly unveiled. The unsettling noises belonged to hundreds of bats hanging from the above ceiling, their black bodies melting in perfectly with the surrounding rock. None of them swooped down to greet or attack her, they seemed to be used to human presences not to mention sensor lights. She managed to move her rigid legs and slowly started forwards, her pupils still dilated with fear. As the shock of the horrible unveiling began to wear away, she wrenched her gaze from the ceiling and began to inspect her surroundings. A roaring waterfall fell like an elaborate curtain over an exterior cliff, concealing the existence of the cave from the outside world. Towers of rock supported the far away ceiling and foundations from the oldest parts of Wayne Manor were visible on the opposing end of the cave. A state of the art computer monitoring system was placed at the centre of the room, a high-backed leather chair facing away from her. For a horrible moment Saoirse was under the impression someone was sitting in the chair but found it empty upon closer inspection. She stared at the many monitors displaying images of different places in Gotham. With a jolt she realised these computers were directly linked with the ones she worked with in the Applied Science Department, meaning anything she created or had access to could be used from this set-up. Except for the bats, desk and chair, the rest of the cave was completely empty. Perhaps this was some bizarre study where Bruce came to get some work done without being distracted?

Three buttons along the desk caught her eye, each with a different coloured stone set in its centre. She reached out and pressed one with an ugly yellow jewel and watched as the monitors in front cleared of all security footage, the largest screen asking for a password. Saoirse glanced around for a moment, confirming she was alone before she began guessing different passwords. It was a tricky business; the security software was programmed to shut down if the password was entered incorrectly on the first attempt. Saoirse managed to over-ride this annoying feature and began entering passwords furiously into the system, thinking of the most ludicrous notions which had to do with Bruce Wayne. She felt no guilt about trying to hack into his personal computer, how many times had he accessed her personal files without her permission? She wished her fingernails were shorter; it was always so much harder to type with long fingernails constantly getting in the way. Five minutes later, the incorrect password sign flashed on the screen once more, an omen of her impending defeat. She surveyed the screen for a moment "Your password is incorrect" continuously flashing before her eyes. She was about to let loose a strangled yell of defeat when she suddenly had an idea. She stared at the screen for a moment and wondered if it was feasible... it would be signature of Bruce Wayne's cheekiness if she was right. If interpreted normally, the sentence "your password is incorrect" would lead someone to believe that their password had been typed wrongly. However, if interpreted literally, Bruce Wayne's password would be...

She tapped in the letters I-N-C-O-R-R-E-C-T before pressing the return key. To her amazement the monitor produced the sentence "Password Accepted" and granted her access to the mysterious files of Bruce Wayne. Amazed by her ingenuity, she hurriedly began pulling files, one entitled 'vehicles' capturing her attention. She clicked on the only file in this folder, an untitled file in a format she didn't recognize. With a giant groan, she felt vibrations rumble through the rough stone after her finger had left the mouse. Springing from her seat, she turned and faced the cause of the ominous sound, drowning out the noise of the hanging bats. A compartment of rock was rising vertically from the ground, bringing to the surface something black... something _massive. _After some seconds passed, the grumbling screeched to a halt and once again, Saoirse's mouth was hanging open. The file she had clicked had activated a stunning feat of engineering, a mini garage which at the press of a button could sink and rise from the ground. But this compartment wasn't for any old car; it had been specially crafted for a specific beast which Saoirse had once had the privilege of driving. The Tumbler stared resolutely from its hiding place, its tank-like appearance blending perfectly with the rough walls of the cave. As she took a shaky step forwards, the car activated, special panels sliding forward in order to allow her access to its complicated interior.

She decided to keep her distance from the Tumbler for now and returned her attention to the monitor in front of her. She pressed another jewelled button set with a pale blue stone and began searching through the files on the computer once more. Seconds later, she'd clicked on a blank file under a folder entitled "weapons" and arrays of gadgets and weapons swung out from hidden hinges on the stone slab next to her. Enthralled, she once more jumped from her seat and went over to investigate the shelves. She peered at the massive slab of rock, trying to figure out how the shelves had blended so seamlessly with the rough surface, making their presence invisible to the naked eye. There were many different things on display here, including the throwing stars shaped as bats. She noticed one was missing from the collection and with trembling hands, she withdrew the throwing star she had nearly always kept with her since the night she had driven the Tumbler to Gotham General. She placed it in the missing gap and found that it fit perfectly. She stared for a moment at the completed set, not yet allowing herself to understand exactly what she was seeing.

She returned to the monitors and pressed the remaining button, set with a deep red jewel that twinkled innocently at her. The folder was harder to find this time but after some searching, she found a folder entitled "Armoury" and clicked on the untitled folder inside. For the final time, she felt the ground beneath her feet shudder, but less violently compared with the previous two occasions. She felt more than heard something rise behind her. A much smaller compartment of rock was emerging lethargically from the ground, revealing some sort of cage holding a familiar outfit. Saoirse approached with the feeling she had fallen into a dream, her presence causing the doors of the cage to open outwards, revealing the garment with a gentle hiss. It was all here, the body armour, the cape and cowl...the outfit of the Dark Knight stared stoically at her as if it knew she was an intruder. Instinct told her not to touch the armour so she settled for sitting on the ground and taking in all she had discovered from this underground cave instead. Her gaze fell from the hundreds of bats, to the computer monitors, to the Tumbler, to the impressive array of gadgets and finally, to the suit in front of her. After staring at the suit for another minute, a certainty filled her mind which could not be avoided; the evidence of the surrounding cave was too overwhelming.

There was no escaping it... Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

* * *

Bruce hurried into his manor, wasting no time in activating the secret door in the piano room and hurtling down the roughly hewn passage. He eventually emerged into the familiar cave, ignoring the shiver the overhead bats gave him as he passed beneath their hanging bodies. He began to change from his crisp Armani clothes into his Batman suit, knowing it was vital he exit the cave as quickly as possible. Since his untidy discovery of the warehouse where the Manhattan Mafia were originally going to do a deal with the Joker, they had abandoned their original meeting. Tonight they were re-organising a date for this particular rendezvous and he was determined to find out when and where. He ignored another call from Lucius Fox; he had no time for anymore of his problems, they could wait for his return. As the array of gadgets swung out from an adjacent boulder, he was slightly put-out to see that the throwing star in a shape of a bat he had lost some time ago had been replaced. Did Alfred fashion him a new one...? He picked up the newest addition and looked at it closely; the metal was far too dull to be new. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably... had someone been in here?

He found his way back to the computer and stared at the three buttons he always pressed without looking – the jewels set in all buttons were missing. He stared at this irregularity with a thunderstruck air. Someone had been here, hacked into his account and replaced the throwing star. Next they had looked at all else this mysterious cave had to offer and had taken the jewels to let him know that they had been here. Whoever it was wanted him to know they knew his secret identity. He quickly re-checked everything before having to ignore the lead balloon in his stomach and clamber into the Tumbler. He would worry about the potential blackmailer later; currently he had to find the location of the next meeting between the Joker and the Manhattan Mafia. The engine roared to life and soon he had directed the engine through the waterfall, failing to enjoy the temporary freefall before the Tumbler met with the road below. There was no point contacting Alfred... It hadn't been him who had taken those jewels. As the engine roared along the tiny road, Bruce was trying to think of who had entered his cave and why they had failed to triumphantly mark their discovery by waiting for him to arrive. Why take the jewels when nearly everything else in the cave was worth so much more? He took some deep breaths before pushing the matter from his mind, perhaps these incessant questions would be answered by the criminals he was about to have a pleasant chat with.

* * *

Saoirse found herself standing beside the Commissioner on the roof of the Police headquarters where they were awaiting Batman. The distress signal shone brightly against the low cloud cover, making Saoirse wonder how the police contacted Batman on a clear night. Saoirse was trying her best to avoid shivering; she'd been a ball of unstable nerves ever since she'd left Wayne Manor. 'You don't need to worry, he'll be here soon.' The Commissioner said with a kind smile. Saoirse was fortunate that he'd misinterpreted her feelings and she did her best to adopt a less worried look. She tried distracting herself by paying some attention to Casper whom she'd picked up from home some hours before. She scratched his big black ears and allowed him to bury his wet nose in her palm, wondering what she was going to say to Batman when he did show up. She could only imagine the conversation...

_'Hey Batman, great work finding out that information! Oh and guess what? I know your secret identity! How cool is that?'_

She shook the conversation from her head and slumped against the cold wall. Casper immediately took advantage of this situation and collapsed on top of her, drooling liberally onto her lap. She scratched his ears absentmindedly while trying to focus on the main topic for this evening. Batman had received intelligence (most likely from Mr Fox) about the whereabouts of a certain henchman of the Joker who knew the location and time of the new rendezvous. The Commissioner had wanted to bring him in for questioning but Batman had said he was already on his way over with the intel.

A light thud announced the arrival of the Dark Knight... or Bruce Wayne would be a more accurate description. He landed elegantly beside the distress signal and quickly addressed the Commissioner. Saoirse should have been paying attention but her eyes were glued to Batman, trying to find something familiar beneath his disguise. He was the same height as Bruce and Saoirse had also seen the significant muscle tone of the billionaire playboy... if he donned a thick suit, would he look as physically imposing as the Batman standing before her? She wrenched her gaze from Batman and looked to the Commissioner who seemed deep in thought. He finally gave a curt nod and approached Saoirse once again. 'He wants to speak with you.' He said in a low voice.

'With _me_?' Saoirse asked incredulously. Her imagination got the better of her and she quickly despaired... he already knew.

'He just wants a private word about what will happen tomorrow, he says he has some important information for your ears alone which will help to secure your safety.' Saoirse nodded glumly and allowed the Commissioner along with a few other lieutenants and sergeants to leave. The door slammed shut leaving a sense of finality hanging in the air. This was it.

Saoirse clambered to her feet much to the dissatisfaction of Casper and slowly approached Batman. She studied his face hungrily, searching for something, _anything _which would reinforce what she had found in the cave beneath his manor. She looked to the only pieces of the mask which remained exposed: the eyes and the mouth. She couldn't believe it; still his face did not look familiar. She would have to remove the mask to be sure. Even if she was 99.9% certain of whose face lay beneath that mask, she was still scared by his ferocious disposition. Even if this _was _Bruce Wayne... she wasn't dealing with the man she worked for right now but some sort of alter-ego.

'It's alright to be scared.' He growled, making her jump.

'Scared of what?' She asked uncertainly.

'Of what lies ahead tomorrow and the part you have to play in it.' She listened as hard as she could but not a trace of Bruce's dulcet tones could be detected.

'I'm not scared.' Saoirse said with a shrug.

'You should be. By tomorrow everything will be over, but the road will not be smooth.'

'I suppose I'm so used to these situations going belly-up that there's no point being afraid of them.' Saoirse replied bitterly. 'Is that all the excellent advice you have to offer me? Be afraid? Be _very _afraid?'

'You need to look out for yourself tomorrow because in the ensuing chaos, there won't be anyone flinging themselves in front of a bullet for you.'

'Excellent, I hate being treated like some damsel in distress anyway.' She was very curious why Bruce wasn't approaching the subject of her knowing his true identity. If it had been her who had been discovered, it would be the first thing for her to talk about and she had been certain he would come looking for her to discuss his darkest secret. So why wasn't he doing so? What was holding him back?

'This is your life we're talking about; you can't be so reckless with it.' His voice had a sharp edge to it but Saoirse didn't notice, she had just realized something crucial... somehow Mr Fox hadn't been able to contact Bruce and he held no knowledge of her knowing his true identity...

'And it's your life too and if you're not careful, someone may whip off your mask tomorrow in all the chaos...'

'Highly unlikely, my identity won't be revealed that easily.'

'Really? So there's no truth to the rumours that some cops are finally getting closer to finding out your true identity?' She invented wildly.

'I fear my secret identity may have been compromised but not by the police.' He said quietly, his eyes filling with a solemn worry. 'But who they are and what they want is information I can only endeavour to find out.'

'How has your identity been compromised?' Saoirse asked quietly, trying her hardest to maintain a straight face.

'My storage unit was broken into today and some fairly useless things were taken. I think it was more of a dramatic statement rather than a full on robbery. All of my more expensive equipment remained untouched.'

'What did they take?' Saoirse's voice was almost indiscernible.

'They're sort of hard to explain...'

'Try me.' His dark eyes fixed on her for a moment before he continued.

'Three spherical jewels, nothing of monetary value but they all mean a lot on a personal level.'

'What colours are they?'

'The primary colours, one blue, one red and one yellow.' Saoirse's hands were stuffed into her pockets and she could feel the slight bulge in her inside pocket where the three jewels rested. She had no intention of stealing them permanently; she simply wanted to let him know that she had been inside his cave.

'If I'd realised they were of sentimental value, I would never have taken them.' Saoirse whispered, fishing in her pocket for the three jewels. Her eyes remained fixed on his as she dug around and finally withdrew the gems which glittered dully beneath the gloomy lights. His mouth fell open as she offered them back, her palm outstretched. His gaze had dropped to the jewels, unable to tear his eyes away from them. She could see his mind moving through the shock, reluctantly putting the pieces together.

'You replaced the throwing star.' He murmured; an odd sort of comprehension twinkling in his eyes as a dazed smile pulled at his lips. It was highly disconcerting to see Batman smile yet it provided Saoirse with the certainty she needed... there was no doubting it, that was Bruce Wayne's smile. 'And if you did that... then that can only mean that you know... who I am.' Saoirse gave a curt nod, suddenly finding it very hard to look into his glittering eyes. 'So...what will you do?'

'I've been with the Police for the past few hours... if I wanted you caught, you would have been cuffed the moment you landed on this rooftop.'

'True. But that still doesn't answer my question...'

'I've no idea what I'm going to do.' Saoirse replied curtly. 'Information such as this is dangerous to hold for any great lengths of time.'

'You're not going to turn me in?'

'Not yet anyway, I need to understand _why_. And to do that, we need to talk properly.'

'Face to face?'

'Exactly. I need some time to gather my thoughts; I'll drop by in the morning.' She openly stared at him now, wondering how this could possibly be happening. In what world did Bruce Wayne become Batman and she a thief?

'Fair enough.' He growled. Saoirse placed the jewels in his hand before turning to subdue Casper's sudden yelps. Before she could restrain him, he leapt towards Batman, trying to pin him to the ground. But instead of connecting his teeth with Batman's calf muscle, Casper's teeth snapped around thin air. Saoirse wheeled wildly, looking for a swish of cape which would provide the tell-tale sign of Bruce's escape route. She stared at the spot he had just vacated while scratching Casper's ears to calm him down. After waiting for thirty seconds she realised he wasn't coming back. She opened the door and disappeared into the warm depths of Gotham's Police Headquarters, Casper following her loyally. As she began the drive home with a yelping Casper in the passenger seat, her thoughts landed on tomorrow, wondering what sort of information she would glean from the Dark Knight over breakfast.


	39. Chapter 39

A street lamp flickered persistently some fifty yards from Saoirse's window. Through itching eyes she watched the irregular flashing, her hands restlessly fidgeting as her breath misted the pane of glass. Insomnia had struck hard tonight; casting her into a fit of wakeful dreams fuelled by unanswered questions, her eyes drooping at times but never collecting the promise of a full night's sleep. The hours slunk past and as the sky lethargically lightened, she rose and left her tomb of blankets. At half four she was inhaling the cool morning air, the streets of Gotham deserted as even the most dedicated criminal had retreated for the night. She slung her bag over her shoulder and after tightening a few straps, increased her pace to a demanding jog. It only took ten minutes to arrive at her destination and she was pleased upon arrival to find the building open but almost completely empty. Stairs were ascended, lifts ignored and hands were patiently wrapped before Saoirse entered the eerily quiet gym. Punching bags hung solemnly and fog pressed against the windows, completing the ambience usually present in a graveyard. The sun started to rise as she began her skipping session, the feeble rays attempting to dispel the neglectful air of the gym. Rope sliced through air, music pounded and heart thundered; interesting distractions in their own right but not enough to hold Saoirse's attention in safe territory. Try as she might, she could not ignore what she had discovered yesterday. Not only did she know the Batman's identity, she'd been romantically involved with his alter-ego. Sweat trickled down her cheeks as she concentrated on the philanthropist, trying to figure out exactly who was piloting his psyche. Was it the man on show to the public, the man who revealed his gentler side to her or the notorious vigilante who struck fear into the hearts of criminals?

Solving Gotham's greatest mystery granted no triumphant feelings of discovery, no victorious elation. Saoirse felt heavy with this knowledge, not so much with what she knew but with regards as to what she should do with it. As far as she could see, there were only two options: firstly, she could go to the police, show them all the evidence in the basement of Wayne Manor and have Bruce arrested. Second, she could keep the information to herself and simply watch from the side lines as this situation continued to unfold in the same chaotic fashion it was currently pursuing. A decision had to be made here but Saoirse wasn't sure which option to pick from the ultimatum.

The skipping ropes clattered to the ground and after a few stretches, she raised her hands above her head and started a steady rhythm with the punching bag, her hands beginning to blur as her momentum increased. The main question screaming above the cacophony of confusion was the most simple and complicated question of all. Why? Why had Bruce decided to adopt the Cowl and Cape and take the battle against crime into his own hands? What psychological disturbance had provoked such a violent reaction from a man that had nothing to desire from the materialistic sector of society with the wealth, status and good looks he possessed? The question seared vehemently, falling in time with Saoirse's punching hands, left, right, left, right, why, why, why, why…

A tap on her shoulder quickly brought her back to reality. She pivoted just in time to see a clenched fist soar past her right ear, quickly blocking her face as its partner looked to connect with her nose. She held no fear of the surprise attack; the tap had signalled the Old Man was testing her. Headphones were quickly ripped from her ears and she stared at her trainer, waiting for him to lower his hands.

'You're reflexes are back to normal.' He said with an approving nod.

'Good morning to you too.' He ignored her frosty greeting and took her left hand, tutting as he scrutinised her bandaged skin. 'What?'

'You can't be training with such loose bandages Saoirse; you'll damage your hands beyond repair. And if you damage your hands, how are you supposed to win your fight in two weeks?'

'I have a fight? I thought you said I wasn't ready!'

'Well, if I'd said you were ready, you wouldn't have been pushing yourself these past few months, surpassing your previous fitness levels and achieving a new level of confidence in the ring.'

'You lied?!' If there was one thing Saoirse could do without, it was more lies.

'To serve a greater purpose.' That was usually the excuse. 'Would you like to know who your opponent is?' Saoirse couldn't think of anything she wanted least at the moment. She remembered bursting into the Old Man's office some months back, begging for him to train her so she could reach this point. Here she was, him deeming her ready for her first fight and she couldn't care less. Boxing had been more of an outlet for her anger these past few weeks than an opportunity to turn professional and do the gym proud by winning some fights. It was out of respect for the Old Man that she squashed her disgruntled feelings and feigned enthusiasm.

'So who's face am I going to pummel?'

'Her name's Andrews, she's born and bred in Gotham and has a year's experience in the ring. She's having problems getting fights these days but will be an excellent experience for your first round in the ring.' There was something wrong with the offhand tone of the Old Man's voice, it sounded suspiciously forced.

'Why is she finding it hard to find fights?' The Old Man shifted uneasily from side to side, forcing his hands deep into his pockets.

'She has a history…'

'A history of what? Steroid abuse?'

'What? No no, nothing like that. She's a rough cookie, prefers brute force to tact.'

'Should I be preparing myself for the hulk?'

'She's deeply unpopular as she doesn't box so much as knock people out.'

'So her fights are short?'

'Very. But I think you'll be able to avoid her deadly left hook with your nimble feet…' He continued on for a good five minutes, discussing different techniques and tactics to employ against Andrews in order to secure Saoirse her victory. Apart from giving a nod and murmuring 'mhmm' every now and then, Saoirse wasn't focusing on the conversation. Even the promise of a fight couldn't stop her from thinking about Bruce and his remarkably unstable life. Which option was she going to choose?

'…I expect you to continue your training in the same manner until the fight against Andrews. I also have some tapes for you to watch where I want you to familiarise yourself with her style and techniques. Know her as you know yourself.' Saoirse could remember only one time when such an important decision had rested on her shoulders and that had been her choice to become involved with the Commissioner's sting operation… 'Saoirse?' Her head snapped up and she gave the Old Man a brief smile.

'Sorry, tired. This looks really great though. I guess I should say thank you for all your help.'

'Whatever's holding your attention hostage at the moment; make sure you've put it to bed come your fight with Andrews.' He said, his eyes narrowed shrewdly. Saoirse decided against protesting her non-existent innocence.

'I have a choice to make.' She muttered.

'Then make sure you choose the correct option, I can't have you being ambivalent about something which doesn't concern the ring.' Saoirse nodded and quickly began to unwrap her hands. 'What are you doing? You haven't even started training properly yet.'

'I'll be back later, there's someone I need to see.' She sauntered away from her trainer and quickly exited the building, her heart pounding unusually fast for such an easy descent. Yet she couldn't blame her pounding blood on physical exertion, the rush of adrenaline had been triggered by something far more substantial.

She had made her decision.


	40. Chapter 40

Wayne Manor loomed ahead, its many windows glittering innocently in the morning light. Saoirse stared at the building for a moment, her hands sinking deep into her pockets as she contemplated what should be one of the most peculiar mornings of her life. The jittery dimension to her thoughts had finally abated and she could finally observe this scenario with a cool intellect, one she wasn't sure she would command upon entering the mansion. She felt light-headed as she approached the handsome door but not because of the heavy sense of responsibility which had settled onto her shoulders that morning. As she raised her hand to press the doorbell, the bizarre nature of this meeting finally hit home. The bell echoed noisily and she felt her mouth twitch irregularly. A strangled giggle stole from her lips at the thought of her impending encounter, unexpectedly dispelling any tension clinging to her anatomy. She clapped her hands over her mouth as the door swung open, revealing Alfred. It suddenly dawned on Saoirse that Alfred may not be ignorant of his charge's nightly activities. Judging by his smiling eyes and the unusual lengthy silence stretching between them, it appeared her premise was fully supported.

'Good morning, Saoirse.' He said with a slight bow, his eyes speaking the truth he found unnecessary to vocalise.

'Morning Alfred.' Saoirse replied, her face splitting into an unsteady grin.

'Master Wayne is breakfasting in the piano room today, he wishes for you to join him there.'

'Then we better proceed, I have some – er – questions for him about an important matter.'

'I'm sure you will find him in a most _informative_ mood.' He winked before hurrying forward to close the door. Soon they were ascending the magnificent staircase and as if time had suddenly sped up, Saoirse was unexpectedly confronted with the library. 'I'll leave you here; I'm sure you're familiar with the route…?' Saoirse nodded her thanks and quickly suppressed another inexplicable fit of giggles as Alfred closed the door. With a tremendous effort, she stifled any remaining hiccoughs of laughter and stiffly walked into the adjacent room. Bruce was reading _The Gotham Times_ but as soon as she entered, he folded the newspaper neatly in half and threw it on the table. Neither spoke as Saoirse took a chair opposite him and began pouring some much needed coffee. The silence continued to stretch between them, both unsure about the mechanics of engineering such a bizarre conversation. Saoirse looked deliberately anywhere but Bruce's face and suddenly found his meticulous appearance fascinating. He was dressed in a grey cashmere fleece, tailored to hint at a defined torso but loosely fitted to leave the exact condition of his midriff up to the observer. The sleeves were pushed to the elbow revealing lightly tanned forearms with veins pressed firmly against his skin, a Rolex Submariner worth more than his Lamborghini seated innocently on his right wrist. The fleece's unzipped neckline plunged to his sternum, the cashmere ending above a pair of expensive jeans, the deep colour and stitching of which was typical of famous designers. The shoes were black, pointed and well-polished but had no laces, again lending to the overall casual appearance. His hair wasn't slick with gel as per usual but hung loosely, stray locks framing his face in a tousled manner which would cause most women to swoon. He hadn't shaved, the stubble prickling his chin in a manner which unexpectedly suited him. Throughout her observation she'd felt his gaze focus on her face, waiting for her to find the courage to meet it. As she puzzled over his stubble's exact shade of black, she felt his gaze intensify, most likely as a result of impatience. She ran a hand through her hair, swallowed and with a much greater effort than she'd anticipated, met his gaze. The silence remained unbroken but it was not the deafening kind which is found in exam halls, this silence was of a different nature entirely. It was the sluggish kind filled with the promises of catastrophic consequences.

'Correct me if I'm wrong; is this a conversation where words are exchanged but the real communication takes place in these long, "meaningful" silences? Because if it is, I'd rather we continue with our little staring contest here.' The tone of his voice surprised Saoirse more than the words he spoke. His gaze, though fierce, was guarded, leading Saoirse to believe that Bruce was anything but comfortable with the knowledge she possessed. Good. At least that made two of them.

'Bruce, I…' And once more, words had decided to vacate her brain, leaving her to flounder spectacularly but unsuccessfully in the field of communication. Saoirse could see that he was trying very, _very _hard to remain patient and calm, neither of which were coming easily to him. As words were of no use to diagnose what she was feeling, she settled for tracing her teeth with her tongue. At least it was a better coping mechanism than twiddling her thumbs.

'Are you… _afraid_ of me?' The brashness and stupidity of the question instantly broke her temporary dumbness.

'_Afraid..? _Of _you_?' She couldn't help it; the stifled giggles were returning with a vengeance and after a weird convulsive movement, the laughter spilled out. Of all the reactions which this question could have provoked, this was the least expected. Bruce's eyes were wide with alarm as he observed the chuckling redhead, quickly smoothing the creases of astonishment from his face as Saoirse returned to her former collected self.

'No Bruce, I'm not afraid of you.' For the time being at least. 'I am however, confused and bewildered by Mr Fox's revelation.'

'So it was Fox.' Bruce muttered darkly.

'He misjudged the situation… he thought I knew more than I did.'

'He still slipped up.'

'This isn't about assigning blame Bruce, if it were, this conversation wouldn't promise to be so difficult and awkward.'

'You'll forgive me for momentarily losing some of my intelligence, but in light of my esteemed colleague's blunder, I can't afford to take any more chances. What is the exact extent of your knowledge with concerns to me?' Saoirse glared at him and took great satisfaction in spitting out the next few words.

'You're the fucking Batman.' Bruce didn't move, acting completely indifferent to this accusation.

'I'm the Batman?'

'Strange, you were all for admitting it when you were under the cowl last night.' Saoirse hissed. Bruce twisted a lock of hair around his finger for a moment before visibly deflating in front of her. It seemed he'd given up the pretence. Now the conversation was about to get interesting.

'…I believe I owe you an explanation.'

'So you admit it?' Saoirse whispered. Bruce shifted uncomfortably for a moment and slowly nodded.

'Yes. I admit it. At night, I moonlight as a masked man who was so infuriated by the deep corruption of Gotham that he decided to use his own fists to do something about it. The city's people initially and still retain a mixed response to my actions, ranging from sheer idolisation to unchartered levels of hatred. I am the one they call Batman… I suppose you've heard of me.' It was only after this eloquent confession that Saoirse allowed herself to fully believe it: Bruce Wayne was indeed the Batman. All that remained now was to figure out why.

'You were angry about the dodgy going-ons of the city… but it just doesn't make any sense…' She began.

'What doesn't?'

'You're the 1%... and you would go to such extraordinary measures to protect the 99%?'

'Is it that hard to believe?'

'Have you met the 1%? Save for a handful, they're the most selfish bastards on the planet!'

'You think I'm a selfish bastard?'

'What? No!' He raised an eyebrow. 'Well… perhaps initially, but not anymore. I know you now. Or at least… I thought I had some clue as to who you were.'

'You're confused.' Saoirse managed to bite back a scathing response. 'You may not be afraid of me and you may argue that bewilderment is the main emotion driving this conversation but I know it isn't. You're angry.'

'I'm always angry. That was your official diagnosis, remember?' Saoirse muttered while folding her arms.

'This is different, you're angry that I was allowed to hurt you.'

'You didn't hurt me, I –'

'Every single day I lied to your face Saoirse! Admit it; it hurts that I didn't take you into my confidences, it makes you angry!' Saoirse could feel her blood beginning to boil. Bruce was right, he had pointed out an emotion which she had completely buried beneath her confusion: she was angry.

'You're right Bruce. You did hurt me. But not for the simple reason you believe.' She was beginning to understand what was infuriating her. 'Before I had my chat with Mr Fox and he let slip something he shouldn't, I thought we were on even ground. It was horrible for both of us but at least we were taking our secrets away from that train-wreck of a relationship, you with your cowl and cape and I with my witness protection fiasco and on-going sting operation.' Bruce's face remained impassive. 'You knew my secret Bruce because Batman was there to "help" me as I blundered down that path. You knew everything, from who my father was to what my plans with the Commissioner entailed in order to bring down the Manhattan Mafia and ensure the safety of my sister. You knew every dark secret I was desperately hiding and oh, I suppose I should applaud you for keeping them to yourself. But never did it cross your mind, that it might just be… _unfair _for you to have all the filth on me but keep your nasty little alter-ego to yourself!' She didn't remember rising to her feet, but she now towered over Bruce. Her fists coiled and in a moment of madness, she felt herself succumbing to the urge to hit him. It was the look of acceptance in his eyes which stayed her hand. He truly believed he deserved whatever beating she was about to hand to him and was not going to raise his hands, not even to defend himself. Her rage vanished and was replaced with something entirely too squeamish for Saoirse's liking.

'Why didn't you trust me enough to share this?' She asked hoarsely, her arms dangling limply at her sides.

'It was too dangerous. With you doing what you were doing with the mafia… if they ever found out what you knew, they would use every instrument of torture under the sun to prise my identity from you. I swore I wouldn't let that happen but now… it's happened. I've completely endangered you and everyone you care about.' Looking disgusted with himself, he rose from the chair and walked mournfully to the window.

'Bruce, that doesn't make rational sense! How would anyone find out I knew who you were if I didn't tell them..?'

'Rachel Dawes.' He said the name bitterly and closed his eyes as if reliving a painful memory.

'Who's Rachel Dawes?' Saoirse asked timidly.

'One of the Joker's many victims… he blew her up in a warehouse tied to a hundred oil drums. She was also my oldest friend and confidant, besides Alfred of course.'

'She knew about… who you are?'

'Yes. And she never told anybody about what she knew. But the Joker still figured it out… he still managed to fit the pieces together which no-one else could see.' He opened his eyes and turned his head towards Saoirse. 'I cannot let that happen to you.' He whispered. 'When I first donned the cowl, I thought it would be enough to protect those around me whom I cherished. I was wrong. It's brought nothing but pain to me, to those I love and to the city of Gotham, which despite my best efforts, still plays host to a madman and a half-dozen high-security prisoners from Arkham.' His gaze sharpened. 'I know that sceptical look; you think I'm exaggerating when I describe the magnitude of danger which I have placed you in.'

'You didn't place me in any danger! _I_ was the one who went snooping around your home looking to satisfy my curiosity! Instead of answers, I just ended up with more questions…'

'Questions such as what psychological disturbance I was exposed to which triggered such an unorthodox response to crime?' He asked accusingly.

'I wasn't going to be that blunt, but –'

'Saoirse, you already know why I'm doing this.'

'W-What? No I d-don't!' She blustered.

'I've already told you why.' Bruce said patiently.

'No you haven't!'

'Think.' Saoirse stared incredulously at Bruce but when she realised he was being serious, she quickly cast around for a time when Bruce had confessed a motive for becoming the Batman. Most of their talks had either been focused on her work or her coping with the sting-operation which he wasn't supposed to know _was_ a sting-operation. She floundered for half a minute in fuddled memories but then a block of conversation came back to her, words spoken by Bruce in his well-equipped gymnasium where he had first hinted at a character deeper than the shallow face he showed to the public.

_'…I've never understood what it is to suffer from unyielding anger? Perhaps you've forgotten Saoirse that I am an orphan as much as I am a billionaire. I'll admit, in my life I have never wanted for material items, yet all I have ever desired was ripped from me when I was eight years old. You think witnessing my parents' murder ignited no wrath, no excruciating desire for revenge?' _

Saoirse stumbled and found Bruce's hands clamped around her forearms, awkwardly holding her up so she wouldn't sink to the ground. All this time she'd held Batman's motive for taking the law into his own hands and she hadn't even realised. It was his parents' death, the shooting which had taken place when he was only eight years old. Everyone knew about it; however no-one would ever expect the prince of Gotham, Mr Bruce Wayne who was expectedly selfish and shallow to still be seeking justice. Saoirse was more than familiar with anger… but did hers even begin to compare with the raging beast inside of Bruce? She didn't think it could, the only possible way for her to feel the same would be if someone killed Caoimhe. The hypothetical situation made her sick to the stomach; she wouldn't have any idea what she might do under such horrendous circumstances.

'You remember.' Bruce muttered, slowly withdrawing his hands when he realised that Saoirse wasn't going to collapse.

'Yes. I remember what you told me.' She brushed a strand of hair from her face, feeling remarkably distraught.

'And?'

'And what? The guilt and anger from such a situation would drive anyone mental if they couldn't find a way to deal with it. Unlike most, you didn't accept your loss; you clung to it for years, waiting for a time in your life when you could exact revenge…'

'Revenge was of no use to me.' Bruce said quietly.

'Why? Wouldn't it have made you even?'

'Perhaps on some primitive level… But I was spared that disappointment. Someone killed the murderer of my parents before I had the chance.'

'What?'

'He was shot coming out of a court hearing where he was going to receive parole in exchange for the information he gave on his cell mate, Falconey, a former leader of the Gotham Mafia. He was taken out or "whacked" if you will as he left the building. I was there, I saw everything.' He approached a bookcase and took a sturdy-looking black box from the middle shelf, beckoning for Saoirse to join him.

'What's that?' Saoirse asked. Bruce didn't respond, flipping open the lid of the box instead. A silver pistol lay gleaming on the velvet cushions. The bullets lay delicately at the base of the box.

'I had this with me the day of the hearing.' He admitted, tracing the outline of the pistol gently but not removing it from the case. Saoirse needed no further explanation. Bruce hadn't taken the gun with him for his own personal safety. He'd planned to use it on his parents' murderer in order to exact revenge once and for all. Either he had a change of heart at the last minute, or had been beaten to the task by one of Falconey's men. With a sinking feeling, she deduced which option was correct.

'You didn't reach him in time.' Saoirse murmured.

'No. I did not.'

'Would you have gone through with it if you had?'

'That question still plagues me, I'd like to think my noble nature would have intervened and stayed my hand. Unfortunately, I can't lie to myself as convincingly as I can to the public.' He closed the lid of the case harshly, the locking noise bringing a sense of finality to this particular story.

'Is that why..?' Saoirse muttered more to herself than to Bruce.

'Why what?'

'Why Batman has his one rule. The rule which separates him from the criminals he hunts. Batman – I mean you – doesn't kill anyone because of what you almost did to the man who murdered your parents. ' Bruce slowly replaced the case and turned to Saoirse.

'It might contribute to the rationale concerning Batman, but it was a different organisation entirely which showed me the path I decided to take. They allowed me to see that a raging vigilante could easily be obliterated, squashed, gone in the blink of an eye without leaving a trace of what it was they were fighting for. I was only then learning what it was that I wanted so badly.'

'…Justice?'

'Justice.' He said with a small nod. 'However, this organisation had a dangerously warped view of how to achieve this justice. They were willing to make sacrifices I found unthinkable.'

'They were willing to kill…?'

'They were willing to inflict punishment to those who deserved it, but most disturbingly, to those who did not. It was here that I realised that regardless of what the criminal had committed, it was not my place to judge whether they deserved to live or die. I would put my faith in the justice system, and clean the streets with what you might call a "firm hand." I have applied this rationale to all who have crossed my path at night but there was one who truly tested my resolve, who's aim was to force me to break this one rule.'

'The Joker.'

'I came very close, closer than the day I tucked a pistol up my sleeve and went to the hearing of my parents' murderer. There was no justice in keeping a madman like him alive… but if I'd broken my rule and taken the Joker's life… he would have won. So I left him to the police, and now he has once again settled into his usual patterns of chaos and recklessness, leaving me to wonder if I made the right choice.' He turned to the piano where he pressed three sets of parallel keys, opening the door to the secret passageway. He looked strangely defeated as he glanced back at Saoirse. 'I suppose I should give you the grand tour… not that you really need it.' He added. Saoirse followed him into the darkness and she gave a quick start as the door shut firmly behind them. That hadn't happened last time. 'After your little break-in, I thought it would be best if the person who was snooping around wasn't able to get out the way they'd managed to come in.' Bruce said in response to her unvoiced question. Saoirse spread out her hands, trying to feel the roughly-hewn walls around her to guide her along the passageway. She felt a hand on her shoulder which slipped down the length of her arm and firmly grasped her hand. 'I know you're not familiar with the route, I'll guide you.' They walked in silence for the ten minutes it took to arrive at the large cave. Questions rose to Saoirse's lips on several occasions but she decided now was the time to be concentrating on where her feet were going instead of the direction of this conversation. Eventually the bats din came within earshot and a slight chill ran down Saoirse's spine as the sensor lights flickered into life. She shielded her eyes for a moment, allowing her retinas to get used to the unnaturally bright light after the darkness of the passage.

'Why didn't you use a torch in the passage?' Saoirse asked as she craned her neck to look at the festered ceiling.

'Training exercise.' He muttered, ignoring the hundreds of hanging bodies above him. When Saoirse wrenched her eyes away, she realised he looked unsettled in the cave. Was it her presence there or something else entirely?

He led her towards the complicated computer system at the centre of the cave where before there had only been one chair, now there was a second one sitting innocently beside it. Despite no longer needing his guidance, he did not drop her hand until they had each settled into a chair. Saoirse's eyes swept the cave, locating the wall of rock where his equipment was stored then peering at the ground, trying to remember the exact spot where the Tumbler and the bat-suit where hiding. Her attention returned to the bats draped across the ceiling and she knew which question she must ask next.

'Why bats?'

'Bats frighten me.' Saoirse's attention snapped back to Bruce's face, waiting to see amusement twinkling in his eyes. She was dismayed to find them stony and serious.

'But if they frighten you… then why did you create BATman? Why have everything you use be in the shape of a bat, and why have all of these creatures in your most sacred sanctuary if you can't stand them?'

'Because bats frighten me.' Bruce repeated, looking as if he were in on some secret joke. Saoirse gave up on this line of questioning and tried a different tact.

'Why do bats frighten you?'

'I experienced a childhood trauma concerning them and since then, I haven't been able to look at bats the same way.'

'Are you scared now…?'

'Uncomfortable would be a more accurate description.'

'Was this some bizarre way of conquering your fear?'

'You're half right. If I did not conquer this weakness, then I would be of no use to Gotham. So I turned the tables. I won the battle against my phobia and managed to utilise it to inspire fear from those I was going to bring to justice. By embracing my fear of bats, I gained my greatest weapon of all.' Saoirse allowed her gaze to wander around the cave and suddenly remembered something else. It was to do with Bruce being in the Applied Sciences department in the dead of night after Saoirse had set up what she'd thought as a faultless security system. Bruce had claimed his master card had given him access but she had been near certain it hadn't and resulted in her composing another theory concerning the billionaire. If he was Batman, it seemed perfectly plausible that this theory was true as well.

'You're a genius.' Saoirse muttered, her gaze finally resting on Bruce.

'Why would you think –'

'Not a genius in the basterdised way society uses the term, but an actual, true genius. I'd say your I.Q. would make even someone as talented as Mr Fox appear moderately smart in comparison. You've managed to retain your secret identity in an age where technology makes privacy nearly impossible for the public at large and the manner in which you manage the criminals of Gotham isn't just brutal, it's really, _really _smart. You don't just outweigh them on a physicality level, but on a thinking level too. It's bad enough that you can pummel them into the ground but outsmart them at the same time with near-flawless logic under such stress?' Saoirse just shook her head in disbelief.

'So you've figured out it was I who was able to hack your software some months ago.'

'It didn't make sense… the mental capacity which you would have had to engage for such a process did not match the lazy, shallow Bruce Wayne which was showcased by the media. But why keep your intelligence hushed up? You could have been working in the Applied Science department on your own, creating all the devices you needed without any external help…' Then it hit her again. It had been a part of the conversation which had caused enlightenment earlier, following the piece she had recalled concerning his motive to become the Batman.

_'You write me off as someone burning both ends of the candle, partying too hard, drinking too much; dating too many women... you wrongly presume I fell into this lifestyle by accident. Wouldn't you agree adopting the façade of an irresponsible rich boy would be more agreeable compared with that of a cold-blooded killer?'_

'You hid your intelligence and your strong opinion on justice from the public eye so that when it came to solving the identity of Batman, they would never think it was you, despite having the capitol to pursue such a route. The investigation would think you lacked the moral fibre and intelligence to be the Dark Knight.' Saoirse said in a rush, feeling the usual elation at solving a crucial part of a complex puzzle.

'Well deduced.' Bruce said with a gracious nod. 'That was precisely my logic for adopting the façade of a spoilt billionaire brat who cared about nothing else but spending his money as quickly and flashily as he could.'

'You play the role in an unquestioning manner. You had me fooled.'

'But not for long it appears.' He said with a small smile.

'I guess I only have one question left: How long are you going to be the Batman for?' She asked the question so candidly, she might have been asking how long it was until his next birthday. Bruce's eyes found the floor and he started chewing the side of his thumb thoughtfully. Either he was carefully constructing his answer or he was reluctant to admit the ugly truth of the matter. Saoirse watched the internal conflict for a moment before understanding exactly what Bruce was trying to put into words. 'There is no leaving this is there?' She murmured. His eyes snapped up, looking furious but not with Saoirse, more with himself.

'Maybe, one day –' He began but angrily clamped his mouth shut mid-sentence. 'I… I don't… All I know is that I can't be Batman forever. But for how long I'll wear the cape and cowl, I cannot say.' A long silence stretched between them before Saoirse managed to summarise her feelings in two small letters.

'Ok.' Bruce looked as if he'd been punched in the face.

'Ok? After everything I've just told you… you say "ok"?!' He asked incredulously.

'Yeah.' Saoirse was surprised at her relaxed manner; it was very uncalled for to be so cool and collected after such a heavy conversation. Yet here she was, logic taking the helm and analysing the situation for her. As far as she could tell, Bruce wasn't insane or even remotely dangerous. He was donning the cape and cowl out of a sense of duty to his dead parents and the people of Gotham city and until he felt that service was paid, he would remain in their service, remaining the city's watchful protector until he was no longer needed. 'I've made my decision; I'm not going to turn you over to the authorities. Why would I? Gotham needs to be protected right now and the police aren't strong enough to stop the Joker. It was you who stopped him last time; it has to be you to do it again regardless of what might happen. And how the hell are you supposed to do that if you're locked up with all of the criminals you've helped put in prison?' She didn't wait for an answer. 'So yeah, I'm ok with this, a little shocked maybe but overall… I'm ok. Batman is your alter-ego, that sits alright with me because of what you're doing with this power. You're doing something good, something extraordinary… maybe even something worthy of legend.' Before Bruce could respond to this all too familiar remark, an incessant beeping struck up on the adjacent monitor. He snapped his head to the right and quickly tapped a few commands into the computer.

'What is it?'

'When that signal goes off, it means the Joker's done something.' He growled as he furiously tapped into his keyboard. Eventually a news broadcast was pulled up onto the screen, the eight monitors facing Bruce pushed together, forming one giant screen where the news anchor began reciting the latest breaking news.

'Good morning Gotham, this just in concerning the terrorist wanted for multiple homicide since his escape from Arkham Asylum: The Joker. He's uploaded some footage to our website which some viewers may find disturbing. Parental discretion is firmly advised.' The cosy news room cut to the interior of a massive dark building with many arches made of old stone. Saoirse squinted at the large screen, trying to pinpoint the name of the building but her concentration was broken by an uncomfortably close-up of the Joker's face. The hairs on the back of her neck began to rise as the Joker began to speak.

'Greetings fellow citizens… you might want to forget about your morning coffee or where you left your house-keys because I have something _much _more important – and _fun – _to bring to your attention. A game: One I call a leap of _faith_.' He shifted the camera so it was pointing at his location instead of his scarred face. 'As you can see, I've taken it upon myself to interrupt this little gathering here, one which I may have a_ccidently _caused.' A coffin could be seen as well as the funerals mourners cowering in individual pews, their mouths sealed with duct tape and their hands tied. '"Why?" I hear some of you ask. Why interrupt this funeral? It's simple! To show Gotham how _petty_ and _useless_ their faith in their "Dark Knight" is. To WAKE UP the entranced citizens and show them the _true _nature of their masked guardian. You see, a guy like _me_ just wants the world to see this "Caped Crusader" for what he really is: the people of Gotham must open their eyes and SEE that Gotham cannot trust their "_faithful watcher_" when he cannot protect the people he is supposedly _guarding_. Let's take a little trip upstairs, shall we?' He leered at the camera for a few seconds before it cut to a tower. Saoirse suddenly realised where the Joker was, he was at Gotham Cathedral and must be in the North Tower, the tallest point of the building. 'Now, here, we have the grieving sister. Is there anything you'd like to say to the camera beautiful?' She glared furiously at him, her duct tape stopping her from spitting out her anger. 'Camera shy? Not to worry, you'll have good reason to be once I'm through with you.' He allowed the camera to unsteadily pan around the tower where there were four windows. A person was tied in some way to each window and all had to lean backwards in order to stop themselves from falling to their deaths. 'So here is my proposition to you, the people of Gotham. Put your faith in Batman and trust that he will save all four of these people's lives and the other attenders of this funeral in the base of this building. Or, if you think you can do a better job, forsake your guardian and come and save the hostages yourselves. Oh and I'd make my mind up quickly if I were you because these ropes –' He pulled one of the hostages ropes roughly '– won't hold for long! HahaHAHaahahAHAHahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH –'

The broadcast was cut off mid-laugh but even in the depths of the cave, Saoirse could feel the panic spreading through Gotham like wildfire. The population would be divided, ultimately leading to the hostages deaths and a resounding victory for the Joker. She turned to discuss her feelings with Bruce but found his chair empty. She wheeled around to see him beginning to pull on Batman's suit, his face set in a determined expression she'd never been privy to before. As he pulled the Kevlar over his shoulders, buckled on his utility belt and reached for his mask, he was dismayed to find it missing from its usual stand. He turned around, thinking it may have dropped to the ground behind him but found a different sight instead. Saoirse was standing behind him, holding the mask at arms-length as if she were afraid it might sprout tentacles and attack her face. Bruce swallowed with some difficulty before gently saying 'I need that.'

'I know. I was just thinking... perhaps I could… put it on you?' Bruce's initial thought was to decline the bizarre offer but quickly realised this wasn't some out of the blue request which would serve no purpose. It would allow Saoirse to witness the full transformation of him becoming Batman… He allowed himself the luxury of adding an extra minute to his departure time and slowly approached Saoirse. He placed his hands over hers and suppressed a grin at her quizzical look.

'We'll do it together.' He muttered. She nodded and together they fitted the famous cowl onto the face of Bruce Wayne. For the first time, he did not fully vanish from her sight with the mask seated on his face. It was comforting that she could finally recognise him with the mask on but she knew this poignant moment was drawing to a close.

'You have to go.' She whispered. He nodded, not wanting to break the fragile moment with his digitally altered voice. His index finger stroked her chin for a moment; then with a swish of his cape he'd entered the Tumbler and with a tremendous roar of the engine, shot through the waterfall's curtain and was gone.


	41. Chapter 41

Within the bat-infested cave, Saoirse gently spun in Bruce's high-backed chair, gnawing at the side of her thumb as she inspected her feelings concerning his dark alter ego. After a few dizzying minutes, she was surprised to diagnose the unidentified emotion eddying in her stomach not as worry, but as disappointment. After the mammoth revelation of Batman's true identity, everything was dully falling into place. There was a reason for every action, a pure motive behind every savage punch and Gotham's greatest secret had lost all of its mystique and intrigue after being divulged. Perhaps she'd been expecting an insane side to Batman after he'd faced the Joker, one as mad and unpredictable as the face-painted foe himself. A hidden psycho with a thirst for blood was more expected from the façade of a playboy billionaire than the absolute commitment to justice which Bruce stowed beneath his Armani suits. Entertaining the hypothesis of a psychotic Bruce Wayne made her skin prickle uncomfortably, she couldn't deny that donning a cape and cowl was the most unexpected and abnormal way of dealing with the corruption of the world but to go so far as to call Bruce insane…? That accusation was an insane act in itself, she was certain of it.

'You look a little tired, Saoirse.' Her head snapped up but her rigid frame relaxed upon recognising the speaker.

'Hello Alfred.' She replied weakly. He smiled warmly and placed a silver breakfast tray on the desk beside her.

'It seems you've both forgotten about breakfast, I suppose you might be excused due to the important subject with which you were both discussing.'

'You don't mind me knowing…' Saoirse said while curiously inspecting the face of Bruce's oldest ally.

'I suppose I don't mind someone from the real world knowing about what Master Wayne gets up to on his night-time strolls… it might even help him take the weekend off.'

'You're worried about him, aren't you?'

'And what area might I be most concerned with? His blatant disregard for his own personal safety? Or perhaps it might be the careless manner in which he acts, not thinking of the repercussions he must suffer for his actions at some point in the future?'

'If I were you, those wouldn't be my primary concerns…'

'Well Saoirse, this may show you how little you know about an old butler like me.' Saoirse puzzled over Alfred's slightly amused look before continuing.

'If I were you… my concern would of course be for his current well-being and I would also worry about the consequences Bruce will undoubtedly suffer in the future… yet those are only superficial thoughts compared to what is really nagging you. You've no idea when Bruce will retire from being Batman.' Alfred's face was cast-down yet it held a surprisingly tender look as he observed his shoes.

'I may have no control over when Master Wayne decides once and for all to hang up his cape; it could be after the Joker is caught or when his body will no longer bear the stress of injuries which only Batman can inflict. But when that time comes, and you mark my words Saoirse, if I am still alive, I will be here to help him adjust. My primary concern however, is what will happen when I am not here to be the support to Bruce with which he has never had to do without. As you can undoubtedly deduce, I am not becoming any younger and thoughts such as these do not help to soothe the worry which I have held for Master Wayne since he buried his own parents.' Saoirse drank in the image of Alfred in that moment, not looking the image of a motely butler, but that of a fiercely proud grandfather.

'So _that's_ why you don't mind me knowing about him… You think I can help him retire either before or after you… well…'

'Decide to pop my clogs?'

'Something like that.' Saoirse muttered while flushing with embarrassment.

'We all die at some point Saoirse and as you grow older, you will begin to understand the beauty of our population's common destination.' Saoirse downed some coffee and bit into some toast to fill the silence which Alfred found perfectly comfortable but she found horrendously awkward.

'So… where you here when Bruce decided to "take the law into his own hands" Alfred?'

'Indeed I was. He came back from seven years of travel around the world a few years ago. During his time abroad our contact had been slight until one day, he requested the jet to pick him up from some far-flung region in the Middle East. He was a changed man when he greeted me; he had some fire back in his being which he had lacked ever since the death of his parents.'

'You must have been awfully glad to see him.' To Saoirse's surprise, Alfred grimaced.

'On the contrary to say the least. I thought the best thing for Master Wayne was to leave Gotham and to never come back. You see, I am still of the opinion that Gotham will never be the sanctuary to Master Wayne which he will always claim it to be. He has lost much here, so much in fact that no good can result in him remaining here. And yet stay he does, guarding the city from terrorists which the world has never seen the like of. And the people he protects… most of them hate him for what he does, for what he had to become in order to beat these villains at their own game. And this man here, the Joker, is the most damaging of all. It's a sad day to see that he has come to prowl the streets of Gotham, and prey so heavily on Master Wayne's mind once again.' Alfred straightened a teaspoon on the tray absent-mindedly while Saoirse absorbed the importance of what the butler was saying. She hadn't really planned on a relationship with Bruce in the future mainly because she wasn't sure when, if ever, her future would be 100% in her control. This business with the mafia was dragging out much longer than she felt comfortable with but she allowed herself, just for a moment, to don the rose-tinted glasses of optimism. Hypothetically; if everything went to plan and her father, Jimmy Junior and the Joker all went down for a long time if not forever and she was promised a life free of fear… would she want to share that freedom with Bruce? If she did, a whole new problem was placed on the drawing board, the issue of Bruce and Batman. Exactly how close were the two connected… could one live without the other? She approached the problem from different perspectives for a few minutes but no matter what way she looked at it, she kept drawing the same conclusion.

'I could never accept him unless he chose to be Bruce Wayne and Bruce Wayne alone.' Saoirse whispered. Alfred gave an unmistakable chuckle of relief. 'What?' Saoirse asked suspiciously.

'Oh it's nothing; I'm only pleased that it's a question of when he'll hang up the cape, not one of affection…' Saoirse felt her cheeks redden once more. 'You have your little sister to think of and naturally, you will never place her in any danger which you have the power to shield her from.' Alfred said with a nod of understanding. 'I don't want you to think I'm forcing you to make a decision but I will say this: what choice you do make, you should choose soon to avoid inflicting maximum damage to both parties.' It seemed the one thing Alfred wanted from her was the one thing she could not give. Saoirse needed time to survey her options; her future was at a precarious crossroads, one road leading her to happiness, one to misery and one to a quick and painful death. The only problem was deciding which road to take seeing as at the moment, they all appeared to be identical.

'Can you take me to the garage Alfred?'

'What business do you have there, Saoirse?'

'If it's all the same to you, I need some time to think about all… _this_.' She waved her hand carelessly at the bat festered cave.

'As understandable as that is, why does the garage provide a better place for thinking than here?'

'Alfred, have you ever been on the back of an MV Agusta F4, speeding down a stretch of open road with the wind roaring in your ears?'

'I can't say I have.'

'Neither have I, but I'll bet all the wool in New Zealand it's the best place to think. My repairs have been completed for some time on the damaged bike Bruce left in my possession meaning it officially belongs to me. I plan to test my premise to see if I'm right about clearing my head. Will you be so kind as to lead the way Alfred? I'm nearly positive I'll get lost in Wayne Manor once we get out of here.' Alfred observed the young lady before him for a moment, pleased to find her in the command of a surprisingly robust character. After all, there weren't many women who could so calmly accept that their boss moonlights as a vigilante when their pile of worries had already reached such an alarming height as was the case with Saoirse. If all she required to settle her nerves was a quick outing on a motorbike, Alfred could hold nothing but admiration for her strong character. He smiled warmly at her before lifting the silver breakfast tray and leading her from Master Wayne's sanctuary up to the sumptuous manor above.


	42. Chapter 42

A limousine careered around a corner, violently flinging most of its passengers against its tinted windows; all except for one who managed to remain upright in his seat, looking perfectly at home amongst the sudden chaos. The fallen men quickly picked themselves off the fluffy carpet and returned to the worn leather, their eyes flicking intermittently towards the man who had avoided falling over. This was the man who had chosen to give them guidance when the rest of the world would have them buried behind bars, their cells holding their live bodies in a tomb-like grip until the only means of escape was by still passage in a nondescript white box. Perched at the edge of his seat with a martini glass gripped delicately between his gloved thumb and index finger, was the Joker. A brave person would describe his appearance as comical – especially as he was wearing a stolen nun's habit. Yet within that serious atmosphere of the limo's interior, not even a hint of a smile touched the lips of the Joker's men. Only murder could inspire mirth from these dark souls.

'I don't get it boss, why are we leaving the Cathedral? Why not wait for Batman and finish him ourselves?' One of the men asked, his gaze never leaving the Joker's face.

'_Gentlemen_, it seems our friend Barnaby here has changed his tune _dramatically_ since his last encounter with the Batman. Such a change of heart gives me hope for the people of Gotham. _Perhaps_ they are not all as lost as I previously thought…' Barnaby, once the chief of security at Arkham, was completely unrecognisable after falling prey to the Joker's manipulative ways. He had shaved his hair, earned multiple scars from running precarious errands for his new leader and his eyes held a starved sort of look, the kind only spilt blood would satisfy. His fingers tapped restlessly on the butt of his holstered gun, impatient to pull the weapon and kill something, _anything_. 'And the reason why we're not waiting for Batman to arrive is simple: we're distracting him.'

'Distracting him? From what Boss?' A second goon asked.

'From our true intentions of course. Smoke and mirrors, ._mirrors_ gentlemen! You see, Batman will be far too pre-occupied with the slight anarchy we left behind in the Cathedral, leaving us with a valuable opportunity which _I _plan to take full advantage of.'

'So where are we going?' Barnaby asked. The Joker licked his lips delicately and downed the contents of his martini. He gently nibbled on the complimentary olive till he'd removed its skin but left the fleshy part untouched.

'Now, now boys, you don't want me to ruin the _surprise _do you?' He whispered. They shook their heads as one, contenting themselves with the silent promise of violence the Joker had made them. They didn't have to wait long.

No more than five minutes had passed when the limo jerked to an unsteady halt and the Joker withdrew a bag which was stowed beneath his seat. He rummaged around for a minute before withdrawing five brown paper bags which he distributed to his goons. There were roughly gouged eyeholes in the bags along with a large, black question mark inked onto the paper. The men pulled the bags over their heads without question and returned their attention to the Joker.

'Good, good. Now, all I want you to do is go to the top floor of that building, the one marked _Woods Initiative _and bring me the man whom Thomas Woods is having a meeting with. _Alive_. Here's some extra grenades. Be back in ten minutes.' It was a mark of the Joker's manipulative prowess that not one of his men questioned him. They took the offered grenades, straightened their brown paper bags and left the dim interior of the limo for the sun-dappled streets of Gotham. The Joker cracked his neck once before leaning over and tapping the driver's screen separating the driver from the rest of the limo. With a hiss, the glass descended, revealing another of the Joker's employees.

'Everything alright boss?'

'When my lovely men return, I want you to take us to a nice, private spot, suitable for a chat where we won't be _overheard_. And when I give the signal, I want you to use this gun –' He placed a sawn-off shotgun into his leather-clad hand '– and kill everyone apart from our guest _and_ me. You've a good shot so I've only put the necessary bullets in the gun. . .' And to stop any thoughts of killing _him _if the driver decided to get too cocky.

'Why? Less shares?'

'Less shares.' The Joker said with a lick of his lips. He nodded towards the driver and an evil grin stole across his face as the glass rose up. He almost felt sorry for the driver, but then again it was only money he was interested in and there were so _many_ interesting things in the world… like gasoline, dynamite and chasing after the Batman to be content with. He perched himself once more on the edge of his seat, knowing his men must have nearly completed the task by now. Another two minutes ticked past until the door was flung open and the men piled one after the other into the car. The Joker didn't even notice that two of them were missing; his attention was focused solely on the man flung face-down on the soft carpet. With a tap on the driver's screen, the car sped away from the scene of the crime, heading for the unfinished tunnels of Gotham where they would conduct their private "chat." The limo swerved around bends at an alarming rate, upsetting the sitting positions of the Joker's goons but failed to distract the Joker from his abducted prey. He sidled his foot closer to the head of his hostage until the toe of his shoe tipped his chin upwards. He bent lower; his face mere inches away and relished the muddled confusion and anger reflected in his eyes. 'Hello _Mr Conlon, _you weren't expecting this now, were you?' The duct tape was unnecessary; Michael Conlon wasn't going to scream like a little girl, his pride wouldn't allow it. His cold eyes observed the Joker keenly, trying to figure out his motive for kidnap… if he had one at all. 'You're probably wondering why I've summoned you here on such short notice… I wouldn't worry if I were you, you'll soon have the chance to speak _freely_.' He sat up and began humming to himself as the limo sped onwards, soon descending into the labyrinth of tunnels sprawling beneath the city. After a few handbrake turns, the limo pulled to an abrupt stop outside of what used to be a subway station. The men had ripped the paper bags from their heads and were leaping out of the car, two dragging the hostage out while another grabbed a three legged stool from the boot. Still bound and gagged, the men dumped him onto the stool and stood guard over his still form, their guns trained on vital organs. 'Would one of you kindly remove Mr Conlon's duct tape? He won't be able to answer a little inquiry of mine otherwise…' One of the men violently ripped the tape from the hostage's mouth and a mark of reluctant respect rose in the Joker's men at his esteemed reaction to such a sudden stab of pain. His soulless eyes remained focused on the Joker, making calculations, choosing his words carefully.

'You know this isn't the politest way to request a meeting with me. My men will take personal offence to this heinous betrayal… if that's what this is?'

'Betrayal? Oh no… nopety nonono no _NO_. You see, betrayal can only occur if there was any trust put into this little _business_ relationship of ours. And allow me to clear this up so you won't be confused… _I _put no trust in this little rendezvous between you and me because I _knew _it wouldn't work. You can't call that _betrayal, _it's simply _survival._ And you're a man who knows about survival Mr Conlon… being a mob boss means having to constantly exercise the role of "Alpha Male." Does it not exhaust you? To be so… _primitive?_'

'What do you want, Joker?'

'You've staked a claim on a precious slice of Gotham City since I was sent to prison… It's quite simple really. I want you to return what you stole.'

'And what if I say light me a cigarette and go back to dreamland?'

'I would do neither and would then proceed to outline the precariousness of your situation.'

'_My _situation? I have no situation, you have nothing to negotiate, _nothing _to bargain with.' The Joker's eyes glittered maliciously as a smile stretched across his mutilated face.

'Are you _quite _sure about that Mr Conlon?' He said softly. He held out his hand and a phone was placed into it without question. He flicked through a few pictures before landing on the one he desired.

'What about your daughter Mr Conlon? The one with all that lovely red hair… and those _eyes! _How did a guy like you produce such a _fine _looking girl?' He chuckled as Conlon's face lost its remaining colour, his eyes polluted by an anger so toxic, it might be an image of evil itself.

'You leave Caoimhe _out_ of this!' He snapped. The Joker giggled to himself for a moment. '_What _is so goddamn _funny_?' Conlon spat.

'Oh it's nothing… just that you think I'm referring to your youngest daughter.' To his credit, Conlon maintained a poker straight face at this alarming reply.

'My wife and I have only been blessed with one child.' He said stiffly.

'_Really_? Well I'd say your eldest daughter, Siobhan – or is her name Saoirse now? – would disagree.' And with a flourish, he rotated the phone's screen towards Conlon's face, an image of Saoirse's work photo peering innocently at the dangerous gathering. 'You see, the sort of love it takes for a Father to move his _entire_ operation to another city simply to find his eldest daughter speaks _volumes_ not just about the unconditional nature of that love, but of the_ vulnerabilities _of that father. And you_ are_ that father Mr Conlon. So tell me… do you still want me to light that cigarette for you? I have one here if you're interested.' He withdrew a shabby looking box of cigarettes and shook a damp one free from the musty interior. Michael was staring at the gap between his knees, trying to swallow a fear which he had never hosted before.

'_Fine_… you can have anything you want… but if you so much as lay a _finger _on her –'

'You're really in no position to be making threats Mr Conlon. Besides, a man who has no intention of holding true to the threats he makes only succeeds in weakening his image and reputation. I'm disappointed Mr Conlon... I thought you'd be familiar with such a concept.'

'You've already taken her…' He said, his voice crumbling with despair.

'Only as an insurance policy until all of this blows over. _Then_ you can take your precious little daughter back to Manhattan and leave Gotham in my _very_ capable –and imaginative– hands.' The Joker took a little satisfaction from the broken mob boss finally yielding to him. He was disappointed though, all it had taken to question his authority was to take advantage of a personal relationship and then BAM he was his willing puppet. Where was the fun with such mediocre people? He heaved a heavy sigh, kicked Mr Conlon's chair so he came crashing to the ground and nodded to the driver. The three henchmen didn't stand a chance with the sawn-off shotgun, all were dead before they hit the ground. The driver leapt out of the car to survey his handiwork and to hopefully glean a compliment from the Joker.

'Nice work driver but unfortunately for you… _I_ want to drive.' Bullets carelessly riddled the now dead driver in a violent display of oozing blood and with an uncomfortable squelch, he slithered to the ground. The Joker looked at the appalled face of Mr Conlon and pulled his best lecherous smile. 'I'd think twice about giving a lecture on "loyalty." Your daughter's life is subject to my every whim… _remember_?' He bent down and lugged the frozen figure of Mr Conlon into the limo, cursing the fact he hadn't asked the driver to do this menial task before he'd killed him. He slammed the door, replaced his nun's habit with the driver's hard-hat and with a squeal of tires, shot down the tunnel, looking for a quick place to dump Mr Conlon… alive of course. He still had much use for this particular mob boss…


	43. Chapter 43

Some hours ago, Junior had called Saoirse with unsettling news: the rendezvous between her father and the Joker had once again been called off. He hadn't elaborated much, but apparently whatever business the two had originally wanted to conduct while backed by their own muscled goons had taken place over a friendly phone conversation instead. This meant that tonight would _not_ be the night where it would all end. The sun would rise once more, heralding a new day where Saoirse would remain spying on the Manhattan mafia for the Gotham Police. She observed her gaunt reflection miserably in the bathroom mirror, wondering what possible reason could have deterred this meet-up. She knew for a fact Batman had nothing to do with this particular halt in proceedings despite his best intentions to interrupt it. Why the phone conversation then? It all seemed very peculiar, and peculiar was the last thing Saoirse wanted from these mad hooligans. A straightforward deal was all she desired so they could all be locked away until they turned to dust and she could finally re-gain control of her fragile life. She shook the negative thoughts from her mind knowing she would only become enraged if she reflected further on her misfortune.

She returned to her bedroom and observed the mess disparagingly. The chamber would have been perfectly tidy if it hadn't been littered with sheets upon sheets of designs and diagrams inked onto paper. Ever since that morning, Saoirse had easily distracted herself with ideas of new inventions which Bruce could use in his stand against the Joker. As it was four in the morning, it was safe to assume that she'd been slightly carried away with her new hobby. At least it stopped her from going mad by re-thinking the same thoughts over and over until it seemed she would never have a new thought venture into her head. With a sigh, she began snatching up sheets at random, trying to squash them into the same pile so that the chaos was at least contained. After lobbing an elastic band around the untidy bunch of papers and stowing them beneath her bed, she lay down beneath the covers with some hope of grabbing a few hours of sleep. The light went off, bringing the suppressing darkness with it. She focused on slowing her breathing and emptying her mind of these pestering thoughts, now was the time to relax, not to worry…

She couldn't have been more wrong.

An unmistakable creak from the hallway announced an uninvited presence. Trying to fool herself into believing the noise was domestic-related was futile. Her eyes snapped open and she listened with her entire being for a sign to prove or disprove her hypothesis. A tense thirty seconds slowly edged past until a whispered voice proved beyond doubt that Saoirse was playing host to an intruder. Her heart was racing and her body was tense with anticipation but try as she might, she couldn't make out what the intruder was saying. The low tone of his voice indicated he was male and the fact he was speaking indicated he had an accomplice. She was under attack in her own home and was undoubtedly outnumbered. But by how many? After listening attentively for another moment, she decided she couldn't be sure and should probably be making a plan of escape instead of attack. She slipped silently form her bed, making sure to avoid the few creaking floorboards in her room and tiptoed towards the window. As she quietly opened it, she cursed herself for not taking up Bruce's generous offer of staying with him until her sting operation had reached an unsteady but final conclusion. The fire escape would allow her the quick getaway she desired from whoever was snooping around her apartment at such a late hour. She was halfway out of the window when she paused. She had no clue who was currently in her apartment, what they wanted or who they even worked for. Surely leaving wasn't the right option? She should conceal herself and listen in on their conversation; that was the only way she could find out who these intruders were and what their purpose was. She left the window open to indicate that she had made a hasty getaway and quickly hid herself in the wardrobe beneath a few coats and a mountain of hoodies. She imagined that every normal person under the sun would have bolted out the window as fast as their legs could carry them but not Saoirse… she was beginning to wonder if she was an adrenaline junkie, always looking for a rush. These thoughts were quickly stifled as quiet footsteps entered her room.

'Check carefully – oh bloody hell.' The voice was quiet and controlled but Saoirse did not recognise it.

'What the fuck is wrong with you now?' This voice belonged to the man with a heavier footstep but was also unfamiliar.

'She's gone hasn't she? Out the window and down the fire escape! She knew we were coming…' The quiet one replied.

'How the bloody hell would she've known we were coming? Who the fuck would have tipped her off? Was it you?'

'Fuck off. But seriously, the Joker ain't gonna be too happy when we return minus the red-head.'

'Who'd a thunk Conlon had a daughter so much older than the little un eh?' They continued to grumble amongst themselves, eventually leaving the room, completely unaware of the girl quivering uncontrollably beneath a mound of hoodies in the wardrobe. Those weren't any ordinary burglars, they were goons sent by the Joker… the motherfricken _Joker _to kidnap her so he could continue with his sick little games. She felt as if fifteen years had been sliced from her age, such was the way this fear made her cower. The Joker, the most terrifying maniac Gotham had ever played host to, was trying to have her captured. She'd heard of what this man was capable of, she'd seen glimpses of the pain he'd managed to inflict on the most solemn of Gotham's guardians… how was she supposed to survive such an encounter if even the Batman could not escape unscathed?

She exhaled slowly, trying to put her thoughts in order. The Joker was after her… alright. Fine, put that terrifying thought to the side for now. But why? After fighting with some of the hoodies so her head stuck out at the top of the bundle of clothes, the answer came easily enough: somehow, the Joker had found out about her being the daughter of Michael Conlon and he'd seen an opportunity to strike at this vulnerability. He was after her… which meant she had to get out of this apartment quickly and find a safe house to place herself in. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her front door clicking shut… the intruders hadn't forced the lock so that meant they'd either picked it or had come into possession of a key. She waited with bated breath for a long minute before finally deciding to leave the safety of the wardrobe. She quickly threw on a coat, lobbed some practical possessions into a rucksack and went to the kitchen to grab her charging phone.

The whistling noise of a heavy object moving through air was the only warning she had, but thanks to her training with old man Jim, it was enough. She instinctively ducked as the butt of a shotgun soared through the space her head had occupied, concussing her for sure if it had met its intended target. Saoirse threw herself to the side, her only thought being self-preservation, not even having enough time to scold herself for thinking her apartment had been vacated so easily. She had dived behind the couch and her hand clasped on the baseball bat concealed beneath it, a far cry from a shotgun but better than being completely unarmed. She withdrew the bat and raised it protectively above her, waiting to smash it into a leering face peering through the gap between the couch and the wall. After ten seconds with no face appearing, she realised they had no intention of coming to investigate her hiding place. Their arrogant natures presumed she was as good as captured, which if Saoirse didn't do something about, would be the only outcome of this situation. She was running through possible routes of escape when the goon with the heavier step started speaking.

'Come out Saoirse, we ain't gonna hurt you. The Joker… he wants you _unspoiled_.' Saoirse didn't care what sort of condition the Joker wanted her in, she had no plans of accepting his uncouth invitation. But in order to play for time, she'd have to stall her two attackers, distract them somehow. It was always in these situations that the most _helpful_ thoughts popped into her head; so far her best plan of distraction was standing up and flashing the men before diving spectacularly out of the window. She decided against this plan and chose to keep them talking instead.

'How did you know I was still here?' Saoirse asked, not expecting a helpful answer.

'We've a third guy at the end of the fire escape; we figured he'd at least see you if you went that way. But when there was no sign of you at that end, we realised you must still be here.' This was the other intruder, the one who had the deeper voice. Judging from his voice he was standing about five feet from her hiding spot, most likely pointing a gun at the couch. He was standing near the entrance of the kitchen meaning he was the one who'd tried to knock her out. A creak of a floorboard on her right gave away the location of the other goon, he was slowly inching closer. If there were only two men in the apartment (she wasn't sure where this third man might be) then her best chance would be to throw the bat at one of the men, lob her rucksack at the other in the hopes that his reflexes would catch it before he knew what he was doing and then she would run through the gap between them to her bedroom and take her chances with the fire-escape.

'Damn, I thought I'd outsmarted you.' Saoirse muttered, trying her best to sound sincere. She un-shouldered her rucksack and held a strap loosely in one hand, the bat clenched tightly in the other. When she would rise, they wouldn't shoot because it was the Joker's wish that she should remain alive.

'Well look who's the cornered animal now?' The man on her left sneered. Saoirse smirked, knowing that the most unexpected attacks always came from those who were cornered. After gathering all her bravery, courage and of course –stupidity– she decided to teach these men this important lesson. As she jumped upwards, she wildly flung the bat at the man who had tried to knock her out. A sickening crunch told her the bat had found its mark and she hurled her rucksack at the other's face, only briefly noting the intruders were wearing horrifying clown masks. Mid-escape she suddenly changed her plan, opting to run straight _at _the man who had just caught her rucksack instead of _by _him. This took both of them by surprise and without even thinking about it, Saoirse used her forward momentum to aid her clenched fists journey towards the underside of the intruder's chin. His head jerked backwards and he crumpled to the ground. Saoirse whipped around quickly to find that the other kidnapper had also slumped to the floor, an impressive bruise blossoming over his left temple. She picked up her rucksack, grabbed her charging phone and quickly headed for the fire escape. As she passed into her room, the unmistakable click of a gun's safety trigger echoed around the room, stopping her in her tracks. Saoirse stood stock still, her peripheral vision locating the third kidnapper, lounging easily against the bathroom door. Throwing her rucksack at this guy wasn't going to work… as she continued to stare dumbly at the third kidnapper, she realised that she'd run out of ideas to escape without being shot at.

'I wouldn't think about going anywhere if I were you.' He said smoothly, sounding much more educated than his knocked-out comrades. He was probably the leader of this little operation meaning that he was undoubtedly the smartest. He walked into the room slowly, relishing the control he now possessed over his prey. 'Why don't you take a seat? You look a little tired.' Unlike the others, this man didn't wear a clown mask. His features were vaguely familiar but Saoirse didn't have the heart to try and place his face at the moment when her defeat was so near. She sat on the bed with her rucksack in her lap, wondering how the window was mere feet from her; escape so tantalisingly close but might as well be three hundred miles away for the good it would do her. She raised her eyes to find this man watching her closely, but not in a way a kidnapper should be watching his abducted prey. He observed her in a manner which made her feel naked before his lecherous gaze. As her skin began to crawl from this intent examination, she realised with a jolt exactly who this man was. And upon realising it, she immediately wished she'd remained ignorant. 'And there's the realisation… you remember me now don't you?' He gently hissed. A cold sweat broke out over Saoirse's back as she watched him as carefully as he was watching her. Worry of being shot escaped from her mind and was replaced with a far more primitive fear.

'Rainmaker.' She whispered.


	44. Chapter 44

He was nicknamed "the rainmaker" due to the tears so many women had shed after he'd forced himself upon them. He was a serial rapist and was one of the men Batman had been rigorously congratulated on for capturing and putting behind bars in his early days. Saoirse hadn't realised that this monster had escaped on the night of the prison break but that didn't matter now. All she cared about was keeping that man as far away from her as possible – and there was nothing she wasn't willing to do to keep him at bay. Her brain responded to the dangerous stimulus promptly, fear and adrenaline pounding throughout her body, heightening her senses and sharpening her thoughts. Death it seemed was not the worst outcome of this kidnap.

'I'm not sure if you're aware of this… but red-heads are my favourite. The way their pale skin blushes when complimented or enraged, the drop of jam amongst the milky white skin for rosy lips and the fiery hair cascading around the face. Beauty in its natural state, just as it should be.' The immobilising fear which had caused her to cower in the wardrobe earlier was _nothing _compared to this. This was fear which had chosen to help her fight because flight was simply out of the question. 'But first, I want to make sure you don't plan on going anywhere.' And without warning, the rainmaker raised his gun and loosed a bullet into Saoirse's thigh. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt, the bullet seemed to be burning and tearing at her living flesh and she writhed in agony, her screams muffled by the pillows as her blood soaked the bed covers. Tears burned down her cheeks as she held her leg to her chest, trying to stem the gush of blood from the open wound. Her breathing came in pants and the agony of the wound made her dizzy with pain. Her heart was hammering in her chest, flickers of ideas roaring through her head, racing the blood which she was so desperately trying to keep inside her body. Spitting in his face, attacking him, hiding beneath the bed, making a dash for the window, all were useless now that she was helpless from her injury. The dizziness was intensifying as more blood escaped from her wound… once she was unconscious all would be lost. Through blurred vision, she scowled up at her captor, wanting to claw his eyes out with her bare fingers.

And suddenly the screams changed to heaves of laughter as some miraculous and unforeseen relief enveloped her. The laughter disarmed the rainmaker, having his victim cower in fear and pain was a crucial part of his ritual and this little bitch was mocking him. 'What's so funny?' He asked through gritted teeth, losing some of his velvety voice to impatience.

'Frying. Pan.' Was all Saoirse could manage. The bewilderment on the rainmaker's face quickly transformed into a cross-eyed look of pain as with a huge SMACK, he was hit from behind by a frying pan. He slithered to the ground in a neat heap and was quickly kicked aside by Saoirse's rescuer. As the face swam into view, Saoirse knew she was hallucinating from her loss of blood. All the same, it was nice to hallucinate such a familiar face.

'I need to clean the wound and temporarily stem the flow of blood. Keep your hand pressed against it like that – good. And whatever you do Saoirse, don't close your eyes. I'll be back with alcohol.' A minute later a horrendous stinging sensation announced the arrival of alcohol on an open wound. Saoirse had seen many a movie where this temporary first-aid had been administered but nothing could prepare her for the searing pain which enveloped her entire thigh. She strung together lines upon lines of curse words, making up new ones at the pain's peak. She zoned in and out of the words of her rescuer, occasionally taking a hefty swing from the whiskey bottle in an attempt to kill the pain. It never helped much but it was better than giving in to the pain and lying in agonising oblivion. 'The bullets still in your leg Saoirse… I need to get you to a hospital.' Lucidity thankfully returned to Saoirse at this startling news.

'No! I c-can't go there.'

'Saoirse, we have no time for this, you're losing too much blood –'

'I'm not s_afe _at the hospital, they'll get me –'

'You're in shock; I'm calling an ambulance now.' Saoirse used her last bit of strength to grab the front of her rescuer's shirt. Only when the face remained in focus did she truly believe who had come here to save her. The lack of panic in her voice upon observing a wounded patient was enough of a give-away.

It was really her roommate: Lisbeth.

'Lisbeth, I've no idea what you're doing here; or why but you _must _listen to me. I am perfectly sane when I say _you cannot take me to the hospital_.' Lisbeth calmly observed the surrounding apartment after she'd finished staunching the wound. She looked at the three intruders and slowly put two and two together.

'More men like these will come for you?' She asked. Saoirse could only manage a nod as the pain in her thigh increased. 'You're afraid they'll find you at the hospital?' Another nod. 'Saoirse… I can't treat you here, I don't have the necessary supplies.'

'Wayne. Manor.' She managed to choke out.

'Bruce Wayne's house? How the hell can your boss help you, wouldn't that be putting you in more danger?'

'Trust me. Wayne Manor. Bruce… can help.' Speaking was becoming harder and harder, the dizziness was increasing.

'I've no car Saoirse, how am I supposed to get you all the way across town? I can't call you a taxi and I noticed your car isn't outside either.'

'Blake.' Saoirse said after a minute.

'Who?'

'John Blake. Card. In drawer.' She muttered with a groan. Lisbeth fumbled with the contents of her drawer until finding the small rectangle of paper. Her eyes widened when she realised he was from the police force but decided asking further questions wasn't going to help Saoirse. She tapped the number into Saoirse's mobile and prayed for an answer at so late an hour.

'Another late call Saoirse? Do you ever sleep?' A voice asked after the second ring. He sounded slightly tired but due to a lack of sleep, not from just waking up.

'I-Is that John Blake?' Lisbeth asked, wondering how on earth she was going to word this bizarre request.

'Yes. Who's this?' He asked, suspicion instantly entering his voice.

'I'm Lisbeth, Saoirse's former roommate. Listen I have no idea how to word this delicately so let me be blunt. Three men came to Saoirse's apartment with the intention of doing god knows what to her, kidnap… maybe something worse. The three men are unconscious but Saoirse's injured, she has a bullet in her left thigh, it wasn't a clean shot and she's losing blood fast. I need your help Mr Blake.'

'You need an ambulance.' He said matter-of-factly.

'She's adamant about not going to the hospital. She's convinced more will find her… she says they want to take her to the Joker.' Silence greeted her on the other end of the phone for a long moment.

'She can't go to the hospital then.' He said, quickly getting to grips with such a terrifyingly abnormal situation. 'Do you have any place where she can go with access to medical supplies?'

'She wants to be taken to Wayne Manor. Bruce Wayne is her boss… she thinks he can help her.'

'Wayne Manor should have the necessary supplies to stabilise her… But why are you calling me then?' Lisbeth took a deep breath before wording her request.

'We need a lift to Wayne Manor, neither of us have access to a car at the moment and a taxi is obviously out of the question.' She waited for the rejection of such a mad proposition.

'I'll be there in eight minutes. Keep her conscious.' With that the line went dead and Lisbeth could only stare at the phone in amazement. She quickly looked at Saoirse who despite being delirious with pain, was grinning stupidly.

'John Blake… he's a cool guy.' She murmured. Lisbeth could do nothing but nod in agreement.

Less than ten minutes later, a sharp knock on the door announced the arrival of John Blake. Lisbeth rushed to the door and let him in, completely startled by the handsome young officer who flew past her. She'd been expecting a much older man to have had the calm reaction to this situation, not some hot-shot police officer. He looked around at the unconscious men and after a minute of scrambling and pulling, he cuffed all three of the men to unmoveable appliances. His hands shook as he tied up the rainmaker, his eyes not believing the identity of the monster he was trying to cage. Lastly, he popped three sleeping pills into each of their open mouths, guaranteeing their stay in Saoirse's apartment until he returned for them. Then he straightened up and went to Saoirse, pushing aside his concern and panic for logic and reason.

'I'm going to lift you down to the car. Feel free to bite down on this–' he gave her a rag '–I'm sorry but it will hurt. A lot.' She nodded, not looking forward to the new wave of pain, but appreciating his honesty all the same. He gently picked her up, fresh tears burning in her eyes as her leg settled into the new uncomfortable position. 'Stay with me. Don't go to sleep.' He said to her sharply.

'You're the law.' She muttered.

'Damn straight I am.' He replied. It took a while but soon they were in the cruiser, police sirens wailing as Blake drove recklessly across town. Saoirse's head rested in Lisbeth's lap as she lay awkwardly in the back seat, her thoughts fuddled but still conscious. It could have been several sunlit days or only fifteen minutes but soon the unmistakeable sound of crunching gravel beneath tyres announced their arrival at the estate of Wayne Manor. Soon Saoirse was brought out of her foggy haze by renewed pain in her leg as Blake hoisted her out of the backseat. Lisbeth went ahead and rang the doorbell repeatedly; then when that didn't work, she banged her fists on the door. After a full minute, the door squeaked open to reveal Alfred in a dressing gown, slippers and night cap. He took in the scene very quickly and to his credit, let two strangers and a wounded Saoirse into the house without question.

'This way.' He commanded and they followed him into a backroom where there were an assortment of medicinal remedies and a massage bed which now doubled as a patient bed. Saoirse was placed carefully onto the mattress carefully and she managed to stifle another cry of pain as her leg throbbed horribly. Lisbeth started giving instructions to Alfred and it was only then did Saoirse realise that it would be Lisbeth's steady hand which would pluck the bullet from her thigh. John did everything that was asked of him, finding blankets to keep her warm, administering powerful painkillers and helping to sterilise a number of instruments for Lisbeth's use. As Alfred passed by her side, she reached out and caught the old Butler's arm.

'Where's Bruce?' She asked groggily.

'He's just come in.' Alfred said with a meaningful look. 'I'll go and inform him of this situation, I'm sure he'll want to help.' He seemed to be gone for only a second when a strong hand grasped hers tightly, hair was swept from her face and Bruce's dark eyes suddenly materialised above her.

'We're going to make this right; you've nothing to worry about.' He said calmly. She felt lips brush her forehead and then an anaesthetic mask was placed over her face, where it came from she wasn't sure but all she knew was that Bruce was counting her off to sleep.

'1….…. 2….. 3…' Saoirse's eyes closed and her life was precariously placed in the hands of her surrounding friends.


	45. Chapter 45

Saoirse's eyes slowly peeled back from their crusted over state and she blinked a few times to adjust her vision to the dappled light. She closed her eyes again, feeling nauseous from the harsh light, her head feeling heavier than usual as if someone had added weights to it. She did a quick inspection of herself before further investigating her surroundings: her body seemed to be in perfect order apart from a curious numb sensation in the muscles of her right thigh. Her hand travelled down to the area in question and she felt swathes of bandages tightly wrapped around her upper leg. As she tenderly pressed the covered flesh, an intense flashback of the horrible events in her apartment blighted her vision. It took her a few minutes to convince herself that she had made it to Wayne Manor, that indeed she was safe and judging by her heart-rate; very much alive. The weighted feeling in her head suddenly made sense; she was on powerful painkillers to counter the pain issuing from her bullet wound. A morphine drip beside her bed supported this premise though judging by the dwindling amount in the bag, she was being weaned off the addictive drug. She wondered how much time had passed since arriving at Wayne Manor… a couple of hours? A few days? Weeks? She turned her head towards the window and abruptly found someone to answer her questions. Bruce lay slumped in a plush armchair, a book collapsed neatly in his lap where he'd dropped it some hours previously. Dark circles beneath his eyes told tales of his lack of sleep, it seemed multi-tasking as Batman, playboy and now carer had finally overwhelmed his limits. Saoirse continued to lie where she was, some primitive instinct warning her against moving too much after having a bullet plucked from her leg. Other thoughts began to lazily float across her mind: she wouldn't be able to box while supporting this injury and trying to regain her fitness levels once more to their current standard felt like a task she could never accomplish. Pushing this disappointment aside, she focused her energy on the current operation she was such a fundamental part of. Now that the Joker had a personal vendetta against her because of who she was unfortunately related to, she deduced she would be taken away from the case once and for all. She was surprisingly angered by this: she had sacrificed so much of her life to see this through to the end and now she wouldn't be allowed to strike the finishing blow…

'You're finally awake.' Saoirse's head slowly turned to see a tired but smiling Bruce pushing himself out of his armchair. 'How're you feeling? You had us all very worried when your heart stopped beating for thirty seconds.'

'I flat-lined?' Saoirse asked in disbelief.

'It was very selfish of you to do so; I've never had my emotions fed into a shredder before but when you lay still on that bed, I certainly had a similar experience.' He was trying to keep the tone of his voice light but Saoirse could tell he was merely putting on a brave face.

'It takes a lot more than a bullet to kill _me_.' She said, trying her utmost to sound reassuring.

'And I'm grateful for it.' He said; all pretences of light-heartedness dropped.

'Mind answering some questions for me?'

'Naturally.'

'Um, where's Lisbeth?'

'In the next room, she's been waiting for you to wake up. She did a splendid job on removing the bullet without even leaving much scar tissue.'

'Did John manage to catch the thugs who did this to me?' She asked through gritted teeth.

'Officer Blake has proven to be a valuable friend, he has all three culprits captured and safely behind bars. A part of me is grateful for him reaching them before I did because I'm not sure what I would have done to those three if left alone with them. He also asked me to pass on some information to you. Firstly, he has informed the Commissioner of the attempted kidnap and all further involvement you have with the case has been temporarily postponed. Secondly, he has taken it upon himself to look after your dog Casper until you are fit to do so. But most importantly, he wanted to draw attention to the people around you, the ones you believe are trustworthy.'

'What about them?' Saoirse asked roughly.

'You see, only two of the three men where escaped convicts from Arkham. The third man who wore a clown mask was actually the doorman to your apartment complex.' Bruce said gently.

'What?' Saoirse asked, completely thunderstruck.

'The Joker was always able to manipulate those who were slightly unsteady to his will in a way I doubt I'll ever fully understand. You must exert constant vigilance where this madman is concerned… trust no-one.'

'Not even you?'

'Well… maybe you can trust me a little.' He said with a smirk. He ran a hand through her fiery hair, tucking a rogue strand behind her ear before stooping and placing a kiss on her brow. 'Get some rest, you'll be up and running before you know what to do with yourself.' He said with a twinkle in his dark eyes. Saoirse had no problem obliging Bruce's wish and she pulled the blankets close to her chin, allowing the morphine to drag her down into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

A few weeks had passed since Saoirse's failed kid-nap and she had been slowly but surely re-cooperating in Wayne manor. All was quiet in Gotham since the attack but it was merely the calm before the storm, the final breath before the plunge. Despite Bruce's words of encouragement and insisting he was fine, Saoirse knew the lack of action was putting him on edge. Whenever he allowed for the Joker to be discussed all he would admit was the fact he couldn't find the Joker's current location and when he did, he would find him, bind him and hand him over to the police where he hoped he would be sentenced to death.

Saoirse was just brushing her teeth one Friday morning when with a start she realised what date it was. The third weekend of the month, it was her turn to look after Caoimhe for the next few days. She flew to her phone and quickly punched in the password and was greeted with ten missed phone calls and a solitary text message from her mother. Saoirse frowned at the phone wondering what all the fuss was about. She ignored the missed callas and proceeded to open the text message where she was greeted with the following note: _Siobhan, I've left Caoimhe with your boxing trainer at your local gym because you didn't show up on time for our meeting. Kindly pick up your sister when you get the chance. _

An inexplicable lead balloon slipped into Saoirse's stomach as she re-read the text. Something was not right here, why on earth would her mother leave Caoimhe with Old Man Jim? He was a stranger to her… why hadn't she just taken Caoimhe home? The feeling of uncertainty continued to linger in Saoirse's body, permeating her being until she realised she couldn't stand to hang around in Wayne Manor and idly do nothing. She grabbed the contraption Bruce had left on a nearby desk to help her walk. She attached the collar around the lower half of her thigh and pressed a button which forced her leg to extend in a rigid straight line. She hastily took a few steps forward and realised she could discard her crutch; this would allow her to put her full weight on her healing leg. With this obstacle easily hurdled, she yanked out a drawer, took out pen and paper and quickly jotted a note to Alfred explaining where she had gone and why. At such an hour, Alfred would be in the kitchen below, Lisbeth was undoubtedly back at the university and both Bruce and John were at their individual places of employment. She threw the note on the bed, lobbed a few essential items into her rucksack and began the difficult task of descending to the garage of Wayne Manor without alerting the attention of its dedicated butler. It was a close call; she had almost arrived at the door to the garage when she heard muffled footsteps marching close-by. She concealed herself behind a pillar and watched as Alfred continued to make his way undoubtedly towards her room to serve her lunch. He would find the note much more quickly than she had anticipated and as soon as he was out of sight, she urged her stiff body onwards. Soon she was passing rows after rows of priceless cars until her precious MV Augusta came into view. She plonked the helmet onto her head, threw a leg over the body of the bike and sped off out of the garage and out into the foggy day. The adrenaline rush was exhilarating, to be moving at such a speed after being confined to bed for weeks was simply phenomenal. The rush however was short-lived as thoughts concerning Caoimhe once again plagued Saoirse's mind. She violently changed gears and urged her bike faster and faster, praying that somehow, the police would not catch her flying down the road at over a hundred miles per hour, she had no time to be exchanging details for a speeding ticket.

After a tense ride with her fingers numbed from the biting wind, Saoirse finally pulled up beside the building which held her gym. She peered up at the top floor where Caoimhe was apparently in the care of Old Man Jim and hurried inside. As soon as she entered, her earlier hunch concerning something being wrong was ratified. It was a Friday, this building should be swarming with people at this hour but there was no-one in sight and all the lights weren't on. Saoirse flicked a switch but understood that the power had been shut off. Feeling her heart beating erratically in her chest, she made for the stairs and began the long climb to the top, halting every few stories to check for a sign of life – which there wasn't. She entered her locker-room, the familiar aroma of boxing gloves and sweat greeting her like an old friend. She moved silently throughout the lockers and headed towards the gym, knowing without doubt that it was going to be just as deserted as the rest of the building. The bags hung solemnly in the afternoon light; a strange scene for Saoirse to take in, only when she came in here exceptionally early was the gym like this. She peered into Old Man Jim's office but found that empty too. Just as she was about to call a greeting, a scuffle in the far corner of the gym caught her attention.

'Hello?' She called into the gloomy room. No response. There was no point being quiet now, she'd given away her position for good. She quickly stepped out of the office and tried to find the source of movement. She was just approaching the boxing ring at the centre of the gym when she realised there was a familiar figure leaning idly against it.

'Old Man? What's going on? Where is everyone?' Saoirse immediately asked.

'Here, there, everywhere. Nothing for you to worry about Saoirse.'

'Is Caoimhe here?' She asked uncertainly, liking the starved look in the Old Man's face less and less with every passing second.

'Oh yes, she's just inside the ring here. Your mother dropped her off rather reluctantly this morning, said she wasn't sure she should be leaving her daughter in the hands of a stranger. Not the smartest woman in the world but she realised something wasn't quite right. Took a few blows but she didn't expect my right hook to be as sharp as it is. She's beside your sister here.' Saoirse's blood wasn't heated from anger; it was running cold from fear.

'Why did you ask me to come here Jim?' She asked quietly.

'Isn't it obvious? Now I have the complete set. I can call for him now.'

'Call for who?' Saoirse asked through gritted teeth, the betrayal of her trainer coming as a sickening surprise to her system. Old Man gave her a yellow-teethed smile before cackling out his answer.

'The Joker of course!'

'And what makes you think I'm going to hang around until he arrives?'

'Well you see Saoirse, that's the easy part! If you make one wrong move, I press this little button here and your mother and precious little sister will be blown to smithereens.' His grin widened as he stepped to the side. Saoirse felt her heart sink as she saw her mother and Caoimhe tied back to back with many sticks of dynamite duct-taped against their chests. The bomb was rigged to blow judging by the ominous flashing light and it didn't take a rocket scientist to work out who was holding the trigger.

'Now Saoirse, if you would be so kind as to join your family, the Joker will be arriving shortly. Then we can all sit down and have a nice little _chat_.'


	46. Chapter 46

Saoirse ducked through the familiar ropes of the boxing ring and reluctantly sat beside her captive family. She watched Jim carefully for a few moments, noting the look of glee in his grey eyes as he quickly made a call on his small mobile phone, a sickening smile stretching across his face. She deduced that such manic glee could only be inspired by the Joker who was most likely giving further destructive and manipulative instructions from the other end of the phone. Saoirse was positive that Jim's fervent admiration would quickly suffocate and die if he knew of the high mortality rate which plagued the Joker's followers. If he didn't die throughout his pledged service to the Joker, he'd most certainly end up in jail for the atrocities he'd helped bring to life. She took savage pleasure in estimating how many years Jim would be sentenced for the illegal kidnapping of three innocent women which he'd then bound tight with explosives. Her hand slipped into Caoimhe's and she gave it a reassuring squeeze, trying to communicate so much with that tiny physical gesture. Her face was unusually pale and her pupils were dilated with fear. Her small frame was stiff, frozen in an awkward position and her breathing was quiet as if afraid that a breath of wind could activate the bomb. After giving her a tight smile, Saoirse fixated her attention on what she should do next, knowing her actions would deeply affect the outcome of this hostage situation.

'This is all your fault.' Saoirse's mother quietly spat, instantly halting the path of Saoirse's thoughts.

'Really; Gloria?' Saoirse asked, not bothering to be offended by these callous words. She didn't have time for her mother to lay all of the blame at her feet, she needed time to think.

'It would have satisfied this hooligan's intentions if you alone had been taken but no, you had to have all of his men caught by the police and make sure –'

'How did you know about the attempt to kidnap me? That was hushed up by the Police and the information was _not _released to the public.' Saoirse interrupted. Gloria went tight-lipped for a moment, not realising she had unintentionally placed herself in a suspicious position. 'It was you! _You_ told them where I lived, didn't you Gloria? Oh no, don't make excuses, let me guess: you hand me over to them and they pinky-promised to leave you alone?' Gloria was too hysterical to deny the accusation and burst into a scalding confession.

'You selfish little girl, did you think that would be the end of it, that they wouldn't come for the rest of his family? For _me_?' Gloria angrily whispered.

'I was _slightly_ distracted by the bullet in my leg.' Saoirse said drily though she couldn't ignore the grain of truth in Gloria's outburst. When recovering from her injury, she should have known the Joker would go for Caoimhe next; it was the next logical step. If she'd realised sooner, she could have placed her in safe protection, far from the Joker's tainted grasp and avoided this situation entirely. Before she could say or do anything however, Jim dropped the phone to the floor and angrily ground the mobile into dust with his heel. Jim was making sure no-one could trace that phone call's location and Saoirse's anxiety could only grow at his cautious manner.

But suddenly, out of nowhere as is the case with most epiphanies, Saoirse knew what had to be done. However, in order to achieve such a feat, she would have to keep the Old Man distracted.

'Why are you keeping us here?' Saoirse asked tentatively, deciding that conversation would serve as a suitable distraction.

'Leverage.' Spat the Old Man.

'Leverage for what…?'

'Not for what, for _who_. Leverage to be employed against your father of course, that's why you were initially sent to be captured. The Joker wasn't pleased by your lack of co-operation and the rudeness you displayed by landing three of his men in prison… Isn't it strange though?'

'Is what strange?'

'To think that after all of the time we spent together in this room that you never mentioned your father, not even once. ' He broke off into uncomfortable silence, clearly enjoying the unfair power he was exercising over the three women. Saoirse daren't give the Old Man any reason to tie up her hands so she dropped Caoimhe's hand and kept them firmly in her pockets, choosing her next words carefully.

'So… how long have you known the Joker , Old Man?' She asked softly.

'Known him? _Known _him? No-one knows the Joker on a personal level; he is far too great a man to trouble himself with such frivolities as "friendship". '

'When did you _meet _him then?'

'Well you see; that's a fascinating tale there. You never did inquire about my story did you Saoirse? A mighty shame too as it may have saved you from the God-awful situation we have here. You see, I was in Arkham Asylum for thirty years for killing my ma and pa. Didn't see that one coming did you? Anyway, they said I was mentally unstable and my parent's deaths were due to my paranoid schizophrenia. All was fine and dandy for a little while after I was released until the Joker came to town and I felt this connection. He was a fellow brother who'd survived those hell holes and I knew in that moment that we would always share a quiet but nonetheless real bond. He started talking about how unfair the people of Gotham had been to me, plotting against me and sending me to Arkham, how I was merely trying to aid the general cause: to usurp society as we know it and to have chaos as our leading lady in this world. How exciting it is! Being a part of a cause once more, having the charismatic and terrifying leader to lead us to imminent victory. His words inspired such a ferocious wrath in my heart which would cause all of my enemies to cower and flee in fear. And it is all possible because of the Joker. He is absolute, he is just; he will bring a new revolution which may seem strange and unfamiliar, but will change the world forever.'

Throughout the mad ramblings of Old Man Jim, Saoirse had been busy fiddling with the elaborate pin on her coat; it was made of sterling silver and was sprinkled with tiny emeralds and diamonds. To the innocent eye it appeared she was just nervously fidgeting with it, but of course this is Saoirse Nolan dealing with this situation, not some green girl petrified by the absurdity of this scenario. With a tiny but relieving _click _the pin came free and fell into the palm of her hand where she quickly covered it with her fingers. After making sure Jim wasn't watching, she clicked the opening mechanism back and forth three times and after chancing a peek at her closed fist, hope filled her when a tiny blinking light, not much unlike the one wired to Caoimhe and her mother, flickered in her hand.

* * *

Some miles away, in a very boring boardroom meeting, Bruce felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He casually took it out and unlocked the phone for all to see, not caring if any thought his anti-social behaviour was disrespectful. His brows furrowed when he realised that this was no mere text or phone call… it was a distress signal. The signal present in the pin Bruce had forced Saoirse to accept in case she should ever fall into an unfortunate situation had been activated. Completely bewildered by what might have happened to her at Wayne Manor, he rose and exited the boardroom, not even sharing an apology to excuse his rude behaviour. He tapped in a few numbers and soon a map was displayed on his phone, showing him Saoirse's exact location. He was alarmed to find that she was nowhere near Wayne Manor, for some bizarre reason, she was atop an old apartment block near The Narrows. Bruce's pace quickened and he was soon striding into Fox's secret elevator behind a bookcase and was trying his best not to permanently jam the basement button into the wall. After what felt like the longest descent of his life, Bruce emerged into the Applied Science department and hurried forwards into Fox's real office. He was relieved to find him not seated and ignorant of their current problem, but trying his best to produce a visual on the apartment block in question.

'I see you got the distress signal Mr Wayne?' He asked as he conjured a hologram image of the apartment block. 'Now sir, the signal appears to be coming from the 24th floor, the top building. From what I can tell, it's currently being used as an all-male boxing gymnasium owned by – Mr Wayne! Where are you going?'

'To find Saoirse.' He said solemnly before slamming the office door and preparing himself for the obstacles ahead. Why Saoirse was at her old boxing gym he had no idea, she would most certainly not be boxing as she was in no fit condition for such an activity… it made his skin craw to think why she might have activated the signal. There was no time to return home to don the Batsuit and use the Tumbler to find her. He needed speed and agility – luckily, he had just the thing.

Five minutes later he was roaring down the main streets of Gotham, zooming in and out of traffic on an MV Agusta, the latest edition which top-speed maxed out at an extra 10 miles per hour compared with Saoirse's model. With clinical precision, he manipulated his way towards the Narrows and the apartment block where the distress signal had been set off. He eventually arrived at the back entrance but deigned _not _to remove his helmet. His visor was still shut and completely concealed his identity from any preying eyes. He took out the necessary tools he'd brought with him, dumped the bike against a wall and peered upwards at the tall building. All was quiet. Just as he was about to enter the backdoor, he pressed a button on his phone which sent out a high-pitched frequency wave which temporarily frazzled any of the recording software in the building. In this way, he entered the building with no-one bearing witness and after 24 flights of stairs, he arrived at his destination. Bruce slunk into the 24th floor and with a silent tread, entered the locker room. After ascertaining that the room was empty he stood silently beside the door which opened into the main gym, almost holding his breath to listen to the conversation which drifted through the ajar door.

'…enough questions as the Joker will be arriving shortly! Another word and we'll see exactly how trigger happy I am.' Bruce's fists slowly clenched and unclenched at this news, understanding that Saoirse's distress signal had not been in vain – she was in dire trouble. Ignoring the immense pressure which fell onto his shoulders, he reflected on what the unfamiliar man had said. Something about a trigger… either he had a gun which he was pointing at Saoirse but seeing as the Joker was involved, it would never be that straightforward. The Joker always required a spectacle, something elaborate… and the main thing which sprang to mind when trigger and Joker were placed in the same sentence wasn't a gun, it was a bomb. This instantly ruled out bursting into the room, Bruce couldn't carelessly run at this man and try to wrestle the trigger from him in the hopes he would be too surprised to press it. No, this would require a distraction, but being Batman meant he was overly prepared in the art of distracting criminals. He temporarily removed the helmet so he could peer through the ajar crack at the scene inside. It was there that he discovered that Saoirse was not the only hostage involved in this situation, two others were also present and he recognised the younger of the pair as Saoirse's little sister; Caoimhe. The older woman with the faded red hair must be their mother but he was unfamiliar with the man who had threatened them to be silent. He looked much older than he had previously suspected the criminal to be but nevertheless, he could see even from this distance, the trigger clenched tightly in his right fist. Bruce gently withdrew a minor explosive and attached it firmly to the frame of the door. It would create more noise than damage and when the attention of the madman was tormented by curiosity and he came to investigate the explosion, Bruce would successfully wrestle control of the trigger from him then. He hid behind a locker and wasted no time deactivating the small explosive. It worked, the smoke blew outwards and the boom was quite tremendous for so small an object that the unknown henchman would have to be deaf not to notice it. Bruce fumbled with the helmet and quickly fitted it in place, the smoke failing to sting him through his visor. He quietly moved towards the door and stood beside it, waiting for the man with the trigger to come and investigate.

'STAY WHERE YOU ARE!' He heard the culprit roar at his captives and sure enough, heavy footsteps were soon approaching Bruce's hidden location. Bruce slowed his breathing, remembering his training with Ra's Al Ghul as he mastered any tendrils of fear. Just as the man took a step through the smoke filled door, Bruce's right hand leapt out and fastened around the trigger-hand, making sure that the red button could not be pressed. His left hand dealt a swift blow beneath the man's chin and he simultaneously kicked his legs out from beneath him. This all happened in a blurry two seconds which resulted in Bruce's foe crumpling at his feet, the trigger grasped securely in his own hand. After making sure the henchman was fully unconscious, he stood up and made his way towards the boxing ring. Three faces stared at his veiled form as he approached, two looking petrified and uncertain, the other trying to restrain a smile. He quickly waved off Saoirse's family's questions, knowing he shouldn't speak as his voice might be recognised. His nimble fingers were soon on the mechanics of the bomb and after opening a concealed door, he wasted no time cutting two red wires and removing the dynamite packs from the now silent hostages. Saoirse quickly took her sister and pulled her into a ferocious hug, telling her to be brave, that their ordeal was almost over. She glanced at Bruce and asked the question he had improvised a solution for.

'How're we getting out of here? The Joker will be here soon.'

'Why are you trusting this mysterious man Saoirse? I'm not going _anywhere _with him, he's the most suspicious looking creature I have ever laid eyes on! You go with him if you please, Caoimhe and I –' Gloria began.

'Caoimhe is not spending a minute longer than is absolutely necessary in this building. She is coming with me and I am going with him. You can do as you please.' Saoirse spat as she took Caoimhe's hand and guided her towards the window where Bruce was. He was quickly lifting a pane of glass from its rusty fixture and produced a modified grapple-gun from his pocket. The end was attached to his belt while the wire was tied to the sturdy end of the boxing ring. As he worked, Saoirse hurried over to the other side of the room where she could watch for any arriving traffic at the front entrance some 24 stories below. There was still no sign of the Joker but it wouldn't be long now… She turned to find her mother uncomfortably close.

'How do you know a man who is able to wrestle a trigger from an armed criminal, disarm a bomb with apparent ease and carries around a grapple gun in his pocket?' Gloria asked shrewdly.

'Unlike you, I was never bad at making useful friends. Now, you have roughly a minute to wise up and go with him, otherwise I'm going to leave you for the Joker and watch the six o'clock news with interest to see what messed up thing he did to you before killing you.' Saoirse said harshly. Gloria was about to retort but something in her daughter's words had stirred some form of common sense which she was keen to abide by. Common sense in this situation was the difference between death and life, and it was lucky that Gloria recognised and understood this. Saoirse returned with her mother back to Bruce and asked him her most important question.

'Will you be able to take more than one person at a time?' He nodded. 'Good, take Caoimhe and my mother, get them safely to the ground – no arguments!' She said with a raised hand. 'You can return for me and we'll all get the hell out of here.' Saoirse said. 'Do you have a phone?' He nodded. 'Give it here; I'll call the police, see if they can't catch the Joker from this mess.' She muttered. After a minute of fidgeting, Caoimhe and Gloria were both secured against Bruce, ready for the vertical descent. She couldn't see through his reflective visor but she knew he was trying to communicate something all the same. 'Get back here soon.' She muttered before dialling 911. She heard a great sighing sound as the wire extended and Bruce dropped away from the 24th floor, managing to abseil down the building with some grace despite his two passengers. Then the operator arrived on the phone to which Saoirse demanded she talk with the police. After a brief pause, she'd managed to connect with a lowly officer and told him everything of what was happening. He assured her that several police cruisers were en-route and that the Commissioner had been notified. After pressing the end-call button, she peered out of the window to see that Bruce had just detached Caoimhe and was fiddling with Gloria harness on the ground. Saoirse again headed to the north-side of the room and looked down at the entrance, temporarily relieved to find no-one present. This relief melted into dread as a battered white van came careering round the next corner and pulled to an abrupt halt outside and men began to leap from the vehicle, heading for the entrance. She counted at least ten men, and the last to leave the van had dyed green hair… the Joker was here. She felt a thrill of fear chase through her legs, her stomach, her chest as he sauntered slowly into the building. She forced her reluctant legs to return to the open window where Bruce had descended just minutes before. She peered down and felt more relief to find that he was two thirds of the way up, his passage slower than his descent due to the stubborn nature of gravity. A very tense minute later, he arrived at the windowsill and hauled himself inside.

'What's wrong?' He asked as he flipped up his visor, instantly noting the petrified gleam in Saoirse's eyes.

'They're coming.' Was all she could manage.

'We'll be gone long before they see us. Place your hands around my neck – and don't let go. It seems we don't have the luxury of harnesses for this descent.' He said while flipping his visor shut. Saoirse clung to Bruce as he stepped out of the window once more and with remarkable control, managed to manipulate his way down the building with a firm hand on Saoirse's back.

'Thank you for coming.' She managed to whisper after nearly finishing their rapid descent.

'You don't need to thank me; you trusted me to get you out of that situation... and that's something more important than gratitude.' Bruce muttered dismissively as their feet touched the ground. Saoirse's next question of how they would escape this god-forsaken place was instantly answered when an old yellow taxi pulled up near the blue MV Agusta Bruce had used to get here. He headed for the taxi as did Caoimhe and Gloria but Saoirse did not move, her fear of taxis was one which she'd not been able to overcome and she was full of suspicion concerning the driver.

'Taxi headed for Gotham Police Station, for four people, in the name of Nolan?' The cabbie asked, getting out of the taxi and dipping his cap in respect. Saoirse almost laughed with glee from the unexpected appearance of Lucius Fox and instantly got into the backseat, feeling her dread slowly flow away as the engine sputtered to life and distance was placed between her and that disgusting encounter.


	47. Chapter 47

The smoke had cleared long before the Joker arrived on the 24th floor. His men had found the incompetent man known as "Jim" who had been unable to hold three women hostage and was currently sitting in a huddled mess in the boxing ring next to the abandoned dynamite and the dismantled bomb. The Joker approached slowly, taking his time for he enjoyed the sadistic fear he'd inspired from this unreliable piece of filth.

'Mr Joker, please sir, I apologize, there was an explosion – and then a man wearing a motorcycling helmet knocked me out and when I came to – they were all gone through that open window and down to the ground below.'

'And I suppose this masked man had the ability to _fly_?' The Joker asked while baring his yellowed teeth.

'N-No Joker.'

'Then how do you explain the lack of four splattered bodies on the pavement outside? You see, here's what _I _think happened. A guy like you –'

'Joker, we found something.' One of the henchmen said brusquely.

'Is it important?' The man nodded. 'I've a small but _quick _lesson to teach you first and it's simply this: never, _ever _interrupt me.' Without blinking, he tore the gun from his inner pocket and quickly shot down the man. As his body flopped with an awful squelch to the ground, he returned his attention to Jim. 'Isn't it so _rude _when people interrupt you? Your thought process becomes all fuzzy and then you can't even remember what you were talking about! Now… where was I? Ah yes! This "masked saviour" now where have I heard that before? You think the _Batman_ was the one who came and rescued these people?' Jim shook his head. 'Oh you _don't _do you? You're still sticking with this story of a random masked citizen knowing the _exact _location of this storage facility? Stop making bad jokes Jim, the Joker doesn't like being lied to.'

'I'm just telling you what I saw is all.' Jim said, now becoming defensive. The Joker decided now was not the time to be dealing with Jim here; he was suddenly interested by this "important news" the man he'd just shot had been so eager to divulge.

'What did you _fine _gentleman find for me then?' He asked almost in a polite fashion.

'It's the CCTV, it shows hardly nothing then at the time Jim mentions, it goes all fuzzy. When it clears there's a few frames at the end which show a man wearing a motorcycle helmet. We think it's the guy Jim's talking about but he ain't no Batman that's for sure.'

'_Another _masked crusader? Then he's obviously linked to one of the hostages… perhaps he's our _most_ loved mob boss?'

'It's not Michael Conlon; the culprit's too tall for that.' He said simply.

'Tell me _gentlemen, _how many people do you know with the sufficient knowledge to conduct such a rescue mission? Hmm? Anyone? Well I know a guy… and he's called the Batman.' The Joker said while leering at his comrades.

'You think _Batman_ did this Joker?' They were almost laughing at him. _Almost._

'Well, he's not as dedicated as _I_ am; he sometimes breaks character but of course, _that's_ no mystery. And as I've discovered before, he _does _have people he cares for; one of them was in this room only ten minutes ago. On another note, the cops will be informed by now of this charade which means we all need to make a concise escape… and blow up the place of course.' He said with a lick of his lips. He returned to Jim and gently picked up the dismantled bomb as if holding a new born child. After looping a new wire into the inside of the bomb, he pressed a button and the red light started flashing again. 'Hold him still.' He commanded. Three pairs of hands held Jim's thrashing body as the Joker attached the bomb to his torso and patted the dynamite into place with a loving caress. 'Now gentleman if you'd follow me, we have some _work _to do!'

'Joker wait! I was right, there was a masked man! Why are you leaving me here to die? You can't leave!' The Joker turned and smiled evilly at the terrified boxing instructor.

'Actually I _can_ leave you to die, and because of your whining and whinging, you will die a coward. How… _disappointing._' He turned and left the room, followed by all of his men until the place was deserted. He was practically skipping down the stairs with euphoria at the coming explosion. He would have to set some dynamite at the bottom of the building too of course, for otherwise how on earth was the apartment complex supposed to collapse?

'Everything ready?' He asked fifteen minutes later. He was getting bored of waiting in the driver's seat of the van plus the original driver was beginning to smell in the passenger seat. How rude of him.

'Everything's good to go boss.' Replied one of his grim-faced men.

'Have you ever raced from fireworks before?' He asked, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in excitement.

'No boss.'

'Well you're about to. Get everyone in.' Soon there was a loud _thud _as the van door closed sharply. The Joker turned on the engine and began to laugh manically; he couldn't wait for it all to begin! 'Showtime!' He muttered to himself as he pulled away from the grubby building with a particularly annoying person yelling his lungs out from the top floor. After about fifty metres, the Joker jammed his finger against the red button and began to whoop with laughter as the building slowly but surely, descended towards the ground. With a rush of smoke and debris, the building gave way with a final groan, and the yells of Old Man Jim were silenced forever.

* * *

Many exhausting hours had passed since Saoirse had made her thrilling escape from Old Man Jim. The kidnapping had been kept quiet but in a town like Gotham, there was only so much you could sweep under the carpet and an unauthorized bomb bringing down a 24 storey apartment block was of course, plastered across the evening news. Gotham police station had been in utter chaos upon arrival, Mr Fox and Bruce had decided that it would be wise to let the three ladies go in unescorted to the building and left the explaining up to Saoirse. Hours had gone by where Saoirse told the re-hashed version of their extraordinary tale, omitting certain key aspects such as Bruce's concealed arrival, the identity of the taxi driver and the mini-explosion which had successfully distracted Old Man Jim. The Police concluded that Saoirse, Caoimhe and Gloria had nothing to do with the death of her former trainer; a frightened eyewitness had seen the Joker's men placing charges at key points in the building's foundations. They were to be transported immediately to a safe house on the outskirts of Gotham where they would be detained for a week while identities were prepared for them in a new witness protection scheme. Saoirse had encouraged this for both her mother and Caoimhe, the former hysterical due to such a luxury not being allocated to her crook of a husband. Saoirse had however halted any such proceedings where she was concerned, knowing that the system had failed her once: she would have to see this bitter process concerning the Joker and her father to the end to ever have a chance of finding peace. She'd originally planned to go with her mother and sister to the safe house and stay with them until they could leave in a week's time. However, Saoirse only slept for a few hours at this place and after an hour of staring at the unfamiliar ceiling and waiting for sleep which would not return, she rose and replaced the contraption on her leg which allowed her to walk and swung her rucksack onto her back. Her leg was stiff and sore from the beating it had taken but Saoirse didn't really care. She tip-toed past her mother and sister's bedroom, content that they were both safe and there was no need to worry about them for the moment. Two police officers were conversing mildly in the living room and there was no-one standing guard outside the front door at such a late hour, as that would only attract suspicion to the house. Saoirse grabbed her motorcycle helmet from the downstairs cloakroom and silently exited the house, heading towards the parked MV Agusta which the Police had so kindly recovered for her. She silently wheeled it away from the house, only deeming it safe to turn on the loud engine when she was a hundred feet from the house. She put on the helmet, swung a leg over the bike and sped off into the darkness, the night's rain beginning to gently soak into her leather bike suit. The tyres of her bike hungrily devoured the smooth tarmac, propelling her forwards at a high-speed which made her adrenaline roar in her ears. She didn't mind though, earlier today she'd been convinced she'd never be able to ride a motorcycle ever again. So for the next half an hour she took random routes throughout Gotham, some through a few of Gotham's snobby parks, others she daringly took lead her through the Narrows. She veered in and out of the few cars still on the road, enjoying the freedom she was able to exercise on to wheels while the other drivers were shouldered with the burden of four. There was really nothing like riding a motorcycle, nothing could compete with this rush.

Despite her expensive leathers, her body was soon numb and soaked through with a freezing rain and she eventually stopped procrastinating and set a course for her true destination. The bike roared along the Gotham motorway with so little traffic that she barely had to move the handlebars to overtake them. She shot along miles upon miles of road until finally she arrived at her destination, her bike skidding on the gravel as she drove up the drive. She gently parked her bike and with a graceless dismount, she forced her stiff body to move in a waddling fashion similar to walking. The complaints of her body were making her regret coming to Wayne Manor by the scenic route. She peered up at the imposing front door of the Manor, by night it wouldn't look out of place in a Gothic romance novel as a haunted mansion owned by some handsome yet disturbed young lord. Hugely aware of the late hour, Saoirse decided not to ring the doorbell and wake up poor Mr Alfred, the butler was getting on in his years and seeing as this wasn't a matter of urgency, Saoirse decided to employ a more creative method in gaining access to the Mansion. She circled around the imposing building, her gaze routed on the upper storeys as she tried to picture where Bruce's room should be in relation to her current location. She knew the rough view from his balcony window due to him insisting she spent the first few days of recovery after her unorthodox surgery in his room. After fifty paces, Saoirse was pretty sure which room was his as it was the only room on the entire east side of the house which had a light on at this late hour. She glanced at the steep face of the mansion but nevertheless, decided to give her bizarre plan a try. She stepped up to the vertical wall of rock and withdrew a curious invention from her pack, one she'd invented in the Applied Science department – it really did feel like a lifetime ago – which she'd never had the time to fully test. She slipped on a pair of light-weight gloves, the rain just ceasing as she attached similar material to her knees and shoes. She decided to leave the helmet on for some sort of protection in this strange plan and just as she was cursing the darkness of a cloudy night, a gust of wind blew the last of the heavy clouds from the moon's façade, allowing a weak, but nonetheless helpful glow to Saoirse's surroundings. She rubbed her hands together to create the necessary static electricity and hurriedly did the same with her kneecaps and her shoes. After a few seconds, she knew she was ready and approached the wall with a strong determination. She extended her hands and placed them against the walls, pleased to hear a distinct _squelch _as the gloves fastened themselves to the wall. She withdrew them before reaching her hands above her head and slapping them against the rock once more. After she was sure they stuck well and truly, she began to slowly and stiffly climb her way up the wall of Wayne Manor. Soon all of its five storeys had been mastered before eventually gasping for breath; she dragged herself over the balcony and landed with a light _thud _on reassuringly solid stone. After sitting in the early morning mist for a few stunned minutes, pleased with how her invention hadn't let her fall to her death but not so pleased by her lack of any former physical fitness, she withdrew her helmet and relished the evening breeze cooling her flushed cheeks. Her hair had escaped most of the rain and once released from the confines of the helmet, it held a wild, untameable look. She clambered to her feet once she was convinced that her legs wouldn't tremble like jelly when she put her weight on them, she approached the two thick, glass doors and peered inside. The bed was still made in a pristine manner meaning its owner had yet to go to sleep but there were signs that the master of the house had returned to his chamber, his watch was by the bedside table and clothes were carelessly thrown over the well-upholstered armchair. She tried the door but realised that it was locked. This was no trouble for her as in her bag of tricks was her trustworthy lock-picking set. She fidgeted with the lock for a moment, sliding the pin back and forth until with a satisfactory c_lick _the door swung inwards and Saoirse was admitted to the warm, dry interior. She quietly closed the door and just as she turned, she found Bruce lounging in the doorway of the bathroom, his gaze alight with curiosity as he observed her uninvited presence.

'Good evening Saoirse, a little late for burglary don't you think?' He asked with a slight smirk, pushing himself from the door frame and coming into the light. Unusually, he didn't look tired, it was as if he'd just awoken from a pleasant nap and there were no dark circles beneath his eyes.

'Just thought I'd pop round… you know, to say hi.' Saoirse said innocently as she dropped her helmet onto a near-by chair.

'In the middle of the night you scaled my house, picked the lock of my bedroom door in a completely drenched state I might add, to simply say _hi_?' He asked incredulously.

'Sure.' Saoirse said with a shrug.

'We'll come to that in a second; firstly, we need to get you out of those clothes.' He said while reaching for a towel.

'Is that what you say to all of the lady friends you bring back here?' Saoirse asked, her tone intended as playful but came across as slightly hurt instead. Bruce paused in his search for a towel and regarded Saoirse carefully, a frown creasing the middle of his forehead.

'I'm pretty sure you're the only woman I've ever applied that expression to with the most innocent of intentions.' He said gently while finding a big towel and some pyjamas for her to wear. 'Here, you can use these. They'll be a little big on you but I think they'll do the trick.' He said while handing a huge towel and the pyjamas to her. 'You should change quickly, or you'll catch a chill. And I think we both know you've been through enough for one day.' Bruce said while squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. He smiled, gently tapped her nose and retreated into the bathroom to give Saoirse her space. It wasn't long before she'd stripped off her drowned leathers and had substituted them for Bruce's soft pyjamas. She knocked on the bathroom door to let him know she was ready.

'Better?' He asked. Saoirse could only nod; she was in a very strange humour at the moment. 'Here sit down, you look pale.' He said while guiding her towards the bed and seating her amongst a mountain of fluffy pillows and blankets. He sat beside her and couldn't help noticing that changed she may be, but warm she was not. He took one of her hands in his and realised his premise was correct. 'You're freezing.' He murmured.

'I don't really care.' Saoirse said with a tired shrug.

'Well that at least only makes one of us. Here, take this –' He was just in the process of undoing his elaborate dressing gown, the one with his initials so expertly sewn into the right breast-pocket when Saoirse stopped him.

'I am cold.' She admitted freely.

'But you won't accept my dressing gown?' Bruce asked with a frown. A small smile pulled at her lips as she observed the concerned billionaire.

'I scale the side of your house, force entry into your room soaked to the skin and instead of demanding to know my intentions – if any – your main priority is to give me some pyjamas. I can't really say the same distinguished behaviour would be received if you ever pulled a stunt like that with me.' Saoirse muttered.

'And yet you still won't accept my dressing gown.'

'Well of course not, then you'd be cold as well and how would that help anybody?' Saoirse remarked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 'So instead of you trying to give me your dressing gown, I have a better idea.'

'And what might that be?' Bruce asked curiously.

'This…' Saoirse seized the closest half of the dressing gown, along with Bruce's left arm and put both around her until she was enveloped by both the comfort of the dressing gown and Bruce's personal warmth. 'We share it.' Saoirse finished shyly.

'A very diplomatic decision.' Bruce complimented with a hint of amusement. Nonetheless, his left arm dropped to a comfortable position on her shoulders and pulled Saoirse closer to him until her head was resting against his chest. 'Apart from stealing my body heat, was there any other reason for your unorthodox appearance this evening?' He murmured against her slightly damp hair.

'Of course.' She said, her voice slightly muffled. She raised her head so she could look him directly in the eye instead of speak to his grey top. 'You saved my sister's life today… not to mention mine or my mother's. You came to help me out of the mess which I had so unwittingly created.'

'Don't be so hard on yourself; the Joker always has a way of finding and taking the things which are most precious to you. He took your sister, the most valued person in your life and you as we both know, are not someone to stand by idly and do nothing.' He murmured.

'Bruce… you've done so much for me, I don't even know how to thank you –'

'Then don't.' He said firmly.

'Why do you always do that?'

'Do what?'

'Refuse gratitude?'

'It is not an emotion I truly value. Trust and loyalty on the other hand… being a masked vigilante really narrows down the field of people you can trust your secrets to.' He finished heavily.

'Yeah, look at the one female who knows your identity; she is constantly vying for your attention so you can rescue her from the most bizarre situations…'

'You're as much of a damsel in distress as I am a knight in shining armour.' He said flatly.

'Apart from the shining armour part, you pretty much tick all the boxes for a classic hero-complex which let's face it: most knights in shining armour have.'

'A hero-complex?' He asked.

'You know… you have to save everybody. You claimed Gotham as you were the only one crazy enough to go about protecting it with the right amount of dedication.'

'I didn't realise you're unannounced visit was so we could talk about my intricate psychological dysfunction.' Bruce muttered.

'We're not; I'm procrastinating from what I actually want to say.' Saoirse said bluntly.

'And what might that be?'

'… I was wrong.'

'About what?'

'A few weeks back, just when I'd found out about who you really were, I had a conversation with Alfred because who better to gossip with about you than to him? So naturally the conversation turned towards what I made of the entire scenario and how it might affect any "us" in the future.'

'"Us?"'

'I'm getting there. Alfred was aware of some peculiarity or other concerning the two of us and he of course had already put one and three together to guess at this curiosity. I laid it out on the table for Alfred as he asked the question in such a disconcerting and unveiled fashion; my exact words I cannot remember but it ran something similar to this: I could never allow myself to be with you as long as you were Batman.' A small silence filled the space before to Saoirse's amazement, Bruce started smiling. 'What's so funny?' Saoirse asked, completely perplexed.

'I'm just relieved it's not a question of affection, you do keep me guessing in this area, Saoirse.' It was Saoirse's turn to smile, not from Bruce's playful jibe, but as a result of the familiarity of those words.

'You and Alfred are so alike… he pretty much said he was relieved it wasn't a question of affection either.' She muttered with a slight chuckle.

'Then what did you mean by before… when you said you were wrong?' Bruce asked, the smile slipping from his face.

'After today I finally allowed myself to accept something which I could no longer run from, and that confrontation occurred just when you entered the 24th floor to find me in a pretty sticky situation.'

'And what did you realise?'

'That I've been a total and complete idiot.' Saoirse admitted.

'In what sense?' Saoirse exhaled slowly and steeled herself for a few moments. 'Has the confession stolen your tongue?' Bruce asked playfully.

'I like you.' She blurted out.

'Really?_ That_ was what was giving you so much anxiety? I already know that–'

'Bruce please just – give me a second.' She swallowed painfully, trying to ignore the jumping frogs in her belly. 'I like you… _a lot_. More than anyone I've ever liked… and probably more than anyone I _will _ever like. And what I realised today was that I don't care if you're batman until you're an eighty year old man and you hit criminals with your cane instead of your fists… I want to be there… with you. If you'll let me.' She finished lamely.

'You… _don't _care when I hang up the cape and cowl?' He asked slowly.

'N-No.' Saoirse said, hating how incredibly vulnerable she was feeling.

'Really?' He asked; his voice barely above a whisper. Saoirse managed to give a few shaky nods of her head. 'So… on a scale of one to ten, how much do you _like _me?' He asked with a slightly sadistic smirk.

'You're going to drag this out of me, aren't you?'

'Absolutely.' Bruce said; the smirk stretching. Saoirse was more a woman of action than of words so as in all perilous situations which she found herself in, she acted on instinct. Sin the element of surprise, she smashed her lips against his, using her forward momentum to push Bruce onto his back, ferociously nipping his lip before pulling away.

'I love you, you idiot.' She muttered angrily against his chin, her eyes blazing as she glared into his dark, astonished ones. After a few tense seconds, Bruce's face split into a smile and he started chuckling with glee. 'Are you laughing at me?' Saoirse asked dangerously.

'Nope. I'm just ecstatic we're on the same page.' She felt his hand move and with a casual flick of his wrist; he'd easily over-turned her so now it was her pinned beneath him. 'It just seems that I've been certain of my feelings for weeks now, while you have only discovered them today.' He silenced her retort with a long, drawn out kiss which made it hard for Saoirse to conduct any reasonable scalding defence. 'Imagine, you a woman weighing a significant less amount then I, can so fearlessly call the man who's alter-ego is Batman an "idiot" and this man himself, cannot for the life of him bear to insult so pretty a face for fear of reaping a solid promise of being gifted another black eye. So to your quizzical look I will simply say this: From the moment I met you, your standoffish behaviour intrigued me and with every layer I've uncovered of your intricately concealed self, I found a soul which I wanted to love… and eventually merge with my own.' The eloquent speech combined with the dazzling effects of the previous kiss made Saoirse's head spin; it was as if she was in a Jane Austen novel.

'You talk too much Bruce… but you do have a certain panache to your words which is intriguing. But enough of words and hidden meanings –' She slowly sat up and placed Bruce's arms around her waist while her lips gently brushed against his '– can you walk the walk _playboy_?' Saoirse goaded. 'Well… Here is an unexpected opportunity to prove Bruce Wayne's dastardly reputation with women as either a fallacy…or as an absolute truth.' His eyes were closed as his hands trailed patterns along her back.

'Are you sure –'

'Such noble intentions are unnecessary Bruce.' Saoirse whispered, and she complimented this with a kiss. She was slightly put out by his reluctance and something of this must have shown in her face as he smiled tenderly and used his index finger to raise her fallen chin.

'It isn't a question of…_want._' He said with an embarrassed smile. 'More to do with the fact that I don't want to wreck this before it has a chance to go down its usual path.' He murmured while his spare hand trailed through her hair.

'Do you believe this will ruin anything?' Saoirse asked pointedly. Bruce took a few seconds before smiling sheepishly and shaking his head. 'We can talk more in the morning when we are less…_distracted_.' She purred; her lips had trailed to his ear where she left this trying message. There was something in her tone of voice which undid his resolve. After a few moments of heated eye contact, Bruce could feel his mighty principals slipping away, not through clutching fingers but through open hands. He focused his attention on the woman in front of him as his lips embraced hers and he gently laid her down, silently vowing that she would be the only thing in his world for the next few hours until the sun rose in the East again.


	48. Chapter 48

Saoirse slowly stirred, feeling as if she'd woken atop a cloud sprinkled with pillows of happiness. Curious as to the source of this deep contentment, she turned towards the left and was pleasantly startled at what she found. Bruce was slumbering deeply, his breathing slow and heavy, his body stretched out in the most comfortable of positions. Saoirse had never seen him looking so peaceful and her cheeks reddened when slivers of memory from the previous night worked their way to the front of her mind. Feeling an inexplicable urge to giggle, she lightly hopped from arguably the comfiest bed in the world and quickly discovered her pyjamas which had been unceremoniously dumped the night before. She quickly pulled them on, almost falling over when trying to coax her stiff and sore body into the baggy garments. Feeling slightly more respectable, she headed for the bathroom, completely unaware of the eyes which had been curiously watching her for the past minute.

'This is strange… It's usually me who sneaks off the morning after.' Bruce said with a touch of amusement in his voice. Saoirse jumped a foot in the air, completely unaware of her very awake and curious audience. 'Did I dash all of your hopes concerning escape?' Bruce continued innocently.

'I'm not trying to escape Bruce.' Saoirse said drily, trying to recover from her embarrassing start. 'How strange I would look, running away from Wayne Manor in the master's pyjamas.' She said with a return to her usual demeanour. 'You look tired.' She added.

'Frankly, I'm amazed that my body hasn't shut down for a three week coma after…_that_.' His grin intensified as Saoirse's features were once again painted red. She raised a shaky hand to her burning cheek, her timid and vulnerable nature baffling her. She had no reason whatsoever to be feeling shy after what had happened; she'd been anything but cajoled by the playboy into partaking in his reputedly favourite night-time activity. If anything; Bruce had been particularly out of character playing the helpless victim while she'd slipped into the role of relentless seductress, a part which she'd executed with unnerving precision. The playful smile retreated from Bruce's face when he sensed her ambivalence.

'Do you regret it?' He asked. It must have been the blunt delivery of this particular question which dispelled Saoirse's illusion of almost cold indifference.

'No.' She replied simply, the vigorous shaking of her head complimented by a shining smile. Saoirse almost skipped across the distance separating her from the bed and leapt into the loving arms of feather and down. She perched herself beside Bruce and crossed her legs, thinking over her words carefully. 'I'm behaving like an idiot.' She admitted freely when no eloquent speech presented itself.

'Well, no change there.' Bruce murmured while playfully flicking her nose.

'Oi!' She said while swatting his hand away.

'Why the sudden nun-like behaviour?' He asked, trying to keep his tone light but his voice betrayed his solemn intentions.

'Because I'm an idiot?' Saoirse offered. 'Fine I'll try my best to explain.' She muttered when Bruce raised his eyebrows accusingly. 'I'm not used to… you know…'

'I'm afraid you'll have to be a little less vague.'

'It's not normal for me to… take the… _initiative _as I – er – did last night.' Saoirse's entire body seemed to flush at the mortifying confession.

'Damn, I must be irresistible.' Bruce said with an almost sadistic smirk which he couldn't stop from splintering into a grin which threatened to jump off his face and escape out the balcony doors.

'It's _not _funny!' Saoirse said, trying and failing to defend her blushing self.

'It is – a – _little_.' Bruce managed between grinning teeth. Before Saoirse could retort he pushed her left knee backwards causing her to jerk forwards and topple into his lazily waiting arms. His lips found hers and for a moment; his passion wiped her mind clear of any dismay or timid nature which had reared its ugly head throughout the morning. There was nothing to think of, only the response to carry out which Saoirse happily performed, her fingers latching onto his supple shoulders as his hands crushed her body against his. Just as Bruce reached for her pyjamas, Saoirse pulled away, chest heaving and pupils very much dilated.

'Look who's taking the initiative now.' She whispered accusingly.

'Well, you'll have to excuse my enthusiasm, you did after all, beat me to the punch.' He replied while playfully pulling at the bottom of her top. His hand slowly trailed along the curve of her midriff until he pushed his hand through her hair, not to place any behind her ear but simply to run his fingers through the fiery strands. 'Not that I minded. It was just… _unexpected_.' He admitted, his hand leaving her hair and trailing down the side of her face, past her eyes, down the sharpened cheekbone which had been chiselled by the stresses inflicted by the Joker and resting his thumb on her lower lip, slowly tracing the blood-infused flesh.

The Joker…

A dark look chased the initial content from Bruce's face, his brows moving forward like slow-motion avalanches, just coming to a halt before the precipice of his nose.

'What's the matter?' Saoirse asked softly. Bruce didn't respond, his lids closing to hide his worried eyes from inspection.

He had forgotten himself, become too carried away with the philanthropist façade which he displayed to the world on a daily basis by allowing his heart _that_ forbidden pleasure. Gotham's need for Batman would never allow such happiness for him, his duty to the people of this city was not yet finished. But he wanted it to be, he craved for the end of this maddening struggle between him and the forces of evil which plagued his city and continuously haunted his life. His neck went limp and deposited his head onto the awaiting pillow, his mind flicking through the possible situations his life as Batman may inflict on the girl with fiery hair. She was stronger than he'd previously anticipated but regardless, the Joker would break her being as easily as dropping a bottle of expensive champagne.

'I've made you into a weakness.' He finally admitted, his words shattering the illusion created by what now seemed to him to be the reckless activities of the previous night.

Saoirse placed both of her hands on either side of his face and slowly tipped his head upwards, exposing the gloomy countenance on the philanthropist's features. She smoothed his brows with her thumbs and endeavoured to read his troubled mind.

'You're not pushing me away.' She said, shrewdly interpreting the ominous turn in Bruce's thoughts.

'You don't –'

'No. You're the only one who knows everything about me. I need you to get through this.'

'What he'll do to you –'

'The Joker wants me regardless of my connection to you. It's who I'm related to which is of interest to him… and I know I'll be safer if I'm closer to you.' She murmured, accentuating her last sentence with a gentle kiss. 'And it's not a weakness to need me as much as I need you.' She finished softly, her eyes watching him carefully.

'I do need you.' He confessed. 'I've needed you for a long time… it's only recently I've allowed myself to realise that this need… it's something far more than a primitive urge.'

'Love usually is; though it often complicates more matters than it solves.' Saoirse said.

'Even if I wanted to… I don't think I could part with you. Not now. Although that just might be the heady rollercoaster of emotions which is released at the start of a relationship.'

'I wouldn't be so sure. How many relationships have you heard of where one is a billionaire who moonlights as a masked vigilante and the other's family forms the foundation of Gotham's most brutal mob and had to enter into witness protection to hurry away from the bloodshed?'

'It's a pretty rare tale.' He admitted.

'We've already discovered that I don't regret last night… my question to you now is the same you so harshly posed. Do you regret it?'

'No.' He said instantly.

'Then what is there to worry about Bruce?' Saoirse asked triumphantly.

Bruce allowed his hands to drop until they rested gently on Saoirse's waist, his fingers pressing delicately into the ridges of her spine. He tenderly guided her towards him until her body was once more pressed against him. Her nose was a mere inch from his as the two watched each other alertly, almost as if they were exchanging a small conversation without the necessary dialogue. Bruce leant up but his lips did not meet hers; instead he pressed a kiss as soft as a butterfly on each of her eyes, his warm breath spilling over her neck and sending goosebumps racing down the curve of her back. As he drew away he took a small moment to simply admire the unusual close-up of Saoirse, noting the dash of freckles which softly dimpled her nose, the length of her fair eyelashes and the way her nostrils flared slightly whenever she inhaled. Bruce smiled sadly and seemed to be anticipating some great disaster coming when he spoke two very solemn words.

'Only everything.'


	49. Chapter 49

'They don't match.' Saoirse murmured softly, her ground-breaking remark reaching no-one's ears but her own. She stared at the computer screen for a full minute and allowed the devastating waves of shock and horror to crash over her, wondering how she would be able to function after this revelation. One line kept swimming to the surface every now and then concerning her current predicament and the sacrifices she had made of late.

_It wasn't possible that all I've fought for has been a lie… _

Somewhere in the recess of her mind, she remembered the events of the past morning which had triggered the deduction of this terrifying conclusion.

* * *

Saoirse was heading towards the safe house to see her mother and sister on one of their last days before departing to hopeful safety. To Saoirse's surprise, Gloria was rather eager to embark on this secretive journey and live the rest of her miserable existence without her husband. It seemed that his cruelty and many women he'd taken to bed had finally taken their toll and created a very easy decision to be made concerning the staying here to die or leaving without him ultimatum.

Saoirse slowed to a halt outside of the safe house, wheeled her bike inside of the unmanned garage and headed inside. A police officer greeted her warmly and informed her that her mother and sister were currently in the kitchen where she quickly hurried. A flurry of red hair temporarily obscured her vision as Caoimhe launched herself into her arms, her hands clamping onto her shoulders in a vice-like manner. A psychologist had been hired to treat her for post-traumatic stress after the soul-destroying encounter with the hostage situation but all that Caoimhe had insisted on was seeing her sister. Saoirse heard a muffled scoff as their embrace splintered and she raised her head just in time to see her mother stalk out of the room. Ignoring her mother's antics, she returned her attentions to her kid sister.

'How was the psychologist? Did you talk about what happened?'

'Not really… she had this grey strip of hair which was really distracting. The rest was brown. How could I talk to someone who looked so distracting?' She asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Saoirse resisted the urge to frown; she'd never seen Caoimhe look so serious before. And not talking to the psychologist wasn't helpful either.

'Did mum tell you not to talk to the psychologist?' She asked in a low voice. Caoimhe immediately hid her face from view by shutting her hair around her features like some bizarre door. 'You can tell me, I promise I won't say a thing.' Saoirse murmured, coaxing her sister from her fiery prison. The wall of hair slowly moved up and down in an affirmative nod. Saoirse stretched out and slowly parted the hair, revealing a worried face which did not belong to a carefree youngling. She slowly smoothed the wrinkles from her sister's face. 'There's no need to be afraid Caoimhe; the police are going to take real good care of you.'

'What about daddy? Can he come too?'

'That's not up to me.' Saoirse replied honestly. 'So… This psychologist had a badger's stripe?' She said, hoping to distract her sister from asking more uncomfortable questions.

'Yeah!' She said, her face splitting into the first smile of her visit. She continued into a long description of the exact location and shade of silver of this stripe but Saoirse wasn't listening. Her eyes were glued to the area below her sister's chattering mouth; the smooth cleft of her chin. Something startling had just occurred to her. Without hesitating, she took Caoimhe's face in her hands, allowing her index finger to trace over what she'd failed to notice before… something which had just turned her blood to ice. Caoimhe struggled in her awkward grip but Saoirse didn't let go for a good ten seconds, a dull apology dropping from her tongue for her strange behaviour. Caoimhe ceased her struggling and Saoirse slowly dropped her grip, terrified at the inevitable conclusion which she was just managing to keep at bay.

'Can… Can I…?' She was finding it very hard to remain lucid.

'What is it?' Caoimhe asked curiously.

' –borrow your hairbrush?' Saoirse finished. Caoimhe stared incredulously at her sister for a moment before shrugging her shoulders and disappearing from the kitchen while Saoirse desperately fought against the conclusion she had accidently deduced. Her sister returned, carrying a hairbrush in her clenched fist. Without a word Saoirse took the proffered brush, pocketed it and strode out of the house without so much as a goodbye. Her thoughts were racing as she jammed the helmet onto her head with unnecessary zeal and mounted her bike. Her jittery heart was keeping pace with her frantic thoughts, the unexpected adrenaline rush clearing her thoughts and illuminating the path she must immediately take. The engine growled into existence and with a tremendous skid on the gravelly drive, the bike leapt forward, eagerly conveying Saoirse to her destination.

She must have broken every speed limit and ran every red light to get to her destination so quickly. The bike was abandoned and she tore up the steep stairs, hurrying into the busy depths of Wayne Enterprise. It didn't take her long to enter Lucius Fox's deserted office and descend to the mysterious depths of the Applied Science Department. She desperately hoped the engineer was occupied elsewhere, the last thing she needed right now was an interrogation of her actions. She was too fraught with tension to even consider conducting such a conversation. She impatiently shouldered her way through the lethargically opening doors and entered the department, breathing a temporary sigh of relief at the deserted office.

Saoirse's nerves returned with enthusiasm as she approached an intimidating looking computer which lit up at her approach. With a trembling hand she withdrew the hairbrush and placed it beside the humming contraption, plucking one fiery strand from the fine needles and placing it carefully on a glass panel. She worked tirelessly for the next two hours, compiling all the necessary data which were necessary for the test. Eventually all was set and she flicked a switch, allowing the test to get underway. Hours passed and after relentless pacing and rigorously thinking of what actions should be taken upon the definitive results, the test was finally concluded. Saoirse almost ripped the lid from the contraption and pulled out the test, analysing with a quick and eager eye the little bands which littered the page. Then she consulted another profile littered with the same bands and her heart fell as the conclusion which she had already deduced stared blankly at her from the printed page. The conclusion had been triggered by the dimple in Caoimhe's chin which had appeared when she grinned, a dimple which neither Saoirse, Michael nor Gloria possessed. Saoirse had tested her own DNA against Caoimhe's and the DNA profiles in her hands stated baldly that their DNA did not match on any level.

It was unavoidable: Caoimhe was not Saoirse's little sister.


	50. Chapter 50

'Siobhan; don't be absurd –'

'For the last time Gloria; my name isn't Siobhan; it's _Saoirse.' _Saoirse almost yelled; her hands shaking as she hastily lowered her glass of untouched wine. _'_And I'm pretty sure you're unsure concerning the definition of "absurd" as nothing I've so far said deserves to have that adjective employed in its description.' She added while thumbing through the DNA profiles sitting innocently on her lap.

'But Siobh- _Saoirse_, you're accusation comes as such a surprise –'

'And don't you _dare_ lie to me, not with such incriminating evidence lying in front of you!' Saoirse spat while throwing the DNA profiles onto the table, her voice shaking almost as badly as her trembling limbs.

'Well, you've obviously misread these profiles, there's no possible way you and Caoimhe can't be related –'

'My intelligence is not the thing to be questioned Gloria. I want some answers. Now.' She added coldly. Gloria picked up the profiles, ran her uneducated eye over the bands in a lazy fashion before placing them delicately onto the table.

'So there are no similarities, what has that to do with anything?' She asked in a nauseatingly ignorant tone.

'Similarities in the bands are crucial for determining siblings or parents who share the same DNA, _mother_. If you were to compare our sets of DNA you would definitely find something of a similar nature; unfortunately.' Saoirse said icily.

'You're blunt charm never fails to astound me.' Her mother responded drily.

'How long have you known Caoimhe wasn't yours?'

'What an absurd conclusion you've drawn from a bunch of squiggles on some clear cellophane –'

'The truth, Gloria. I want to know the truth.' Saoirse spoke the words slowly, hoping to embellish each syllable with the seriousness of the situation.

'And what makes you think I'm hiding anything?' Gloria asked innocently.

'_Science_.' Saoirse said exasperatedly. 'You've got twenty seconds to start talking Gloria. And I'd be mightily careful about employing tongue-in-cheek answers with what you're about to tell me; these profiles may mean little to you but to a social worker and a judge, they would mean the end of your mother-daughter relationship with Caoimhe.' The colour abruptly drained from Gloria's face, her eyes sharpening when she realised what Saoirse was threatening. A furious pause spiralled between them, Gloria's pencilled brows contracting severely, complimenting the snarl which pulled at her lips. Saoirse matched her ferocious glare, willing her mother to break this tension-fuelled silence before she did.

'You just _had _to stick your nose where it didn't belong didn't you?' Gloria sneered.

'So I was right? Caoimhe isn't a blood relative?' Saoirse asked in a timid whisper, her shoulders sagging at the approval of her theory.

'No. She isn't.' Gloria said dismissively.

'Then… who is she?'

'Adopted.'

'Adopted…?'

'It was your father's idea.'

'He was trying to replace me?'

'No you silly little girl, he was trying to lure you home! And to give the old fool some credit, it almost worked –'

'Lure me home? Why would he –'

'_If _you would cease to constantly interrupt me with this stream of useless questions, I might be able to tell you the whole tale before I'm placed in my coffin!' Gloria spat vehemently. Saoirse bit back a scintillating retort before crossing her arms and waiting for her mother to continue. 'Despite your remarkable betrayal –' Saoirse could only just hold her tongue at this opening '– your father was still desperate to have you in his life. So using his imagination, he devised a method which would allow you to enter our lives once more without you understanding his intentions – by pretending you had a sister. You can only imagine the stressful time we had in order to procure such a girl. After much searching, eventually we found a suitable match. There only remained one problem; the securing of said child.'

'I thought you said Caoimhe was adopted?'

'_What _did I say about interruptions?' Gloria roared in a stage whisper. Saoirse held up her hands in mock surrender and signalled for her mother to continue with the story. 'Well… where was I? Ah yes. Caoimhe was around two years old when we initially found her but unfortunately, the teen who'd been knocked up with this red haired jewel seemed intent on keeping her. As you well know, your father is not a man used to having his will denied. In the ways typical of his customs, he produced some material of an incriminating nature which we could employ against Caoimhe's maternal mother, evidence which under no circumstances she would like to have brought to the attention of the authorities. Of course if such an event did occur, she would be stripped of her child who would in turn be placed in the unsettling and insecure environment of a foster home. So she was given an ultimatum. She could give Caoimhe to us where she was guaranteed a stable and wealthy life or she could refuse and Caoimhe would be transported to the world of foster care where not only would she never lay eyes on her daughter again, but understanding some statistics concerning such places, Caoimhe would undoubtedly grow up to become some sort of criminal or drug addict. I'm sure you're smart enough to deduce which of the options she picked.' Gloria finished with a smirk, refilling her now empty glass of red wine.

Saoirse watched the pungent red liquid slosh into the crystal glass, astounded at how her opinion of her parents which she'd originally thought could sink no lower, had done just that. She lifted her own glass and allowed some of the strong liquid to trickle down her throat, the strong kick of alcohol returning her to this unfortunate conversation.

'Does Caoimhe have any idea?' Saoirse asked in a raspy voice.

'No. And I plan to keep it that way. As I'm sure you've noticed; the darling has been through enough of late. Do you really believe she needs to have the very foundations of her existence, the one thing which she can take for granted at the moment, questioned? By all means Saoirse, go and break the news to the little girl, I will have no more to do with the harm which has been cruelly inflicted upon her. My plan is for her and myself to leave this horrible city, lick our wounds and get on with our lives. You are not so foolish as to fail to understand that delivering news such as this will do nothing but smash her fragile self into an unfixable mess.' Saoirse looked long and hard at her mother's carefree expression, not wanting to process the horrid information which had just passed her way but being unable of course to ignore it. Caoimhe had come into her parent's lives to lure her back into the Conlon household. Because of Saoirse's rebellious antics, Caoimhe had been uprooted from a loving mother and had been placed in situations too grotesque to comprehend for such a youngling. Saoirse's hand clenched around the glass and it took every ounce of will-power to abstain from smashing it into her mother's face, to watch her blood pour and mix with the silky red wine until the two were indistinguishable in the array of crushed crystal decorating her marred features.

She abruptly rose, snatched up the DNA profiles and stalked from the room, deciding in spite of the late hour to pay her dear little sister a visit.


	51. Chapter 51

'You did the right thing.' Bruce murmured, at a loss to console Saoirse's deflated form.

'Did I?' She croaked; her head lost in the adjacent pillow.

'Saoirse; you allowed Caoimhe to return to a safe, happy and _normal _life. She's not going to disappear with your mother into witness protection; she's going back to her rightful family.' He tightened his arms around her, determined to show her if not through words, then through action that she had made the responsible choice. 'You let her go.' He added. Her face remained buried in the nest of feathery comfort, assuming the same static position of the previous half an hour. Memories of the fiery haired child flipped open for Saoirse to study; ice skating in this very mansion, taking long drives with her, Caoimhe's curious fascination with nature, the smile which would make the most hardened and psychotic man chuckle, the way her true mother's face had been cleaved in two when she'd been re-united with her previous daughter…

'I know I did the right thing, but it doesn't make it any less painful.' She said eventually. Bruce brushed some of the hair away from her face and gently pulled her towards him.

'You're hurting. It's alright to let it show.'

'You know I hate being vulnerable.' Saoirse murmured, not liking the lump forming in the back of her throat any more than the moisture gathering in her eyes.

'And you're also aware the feeling's mutual.' Bruce muttered, a smile pulling at his lips.

'Mmm a vulnerable Batman could be a troublesome vigilante.' Saoirse said nodding in agreement.

'Troublesome? I think the adjective you're searching for is _useless_. Batman can't be useless, not now.' He said, the lightness in his voice turning sour.

'So tell me, what's been so engrossing in Gotham's night time attractions?'

'The Joker.' Bruce said, his voice caving in around the psychotic murderer's pseudonym.

'Do you know where he is?' Saoirse asked quietly. Bruce shook his head, a look of frustration marring his visage.

'He's playing hide and seek with me, which can only mean he eventually wants me to find him.'

'But why would he want you to find him?'

'Because that's the way he likes to play his games Saoirse. You should know he doesn't apply logic to his plans for inspiring chaos; that would defeat his entire purpose.' His arms tightened a little more around her. 'I almost catch him but every time I gain a location from one of his henchmen, poof! He's gone. Only a whisper of his presence is left behind…' He looked angry with himself. 'I can't think one step ahead of him, or plan to trap him. He doesn't work in the same manner as other criminals; how can I predict his next move when even _he_ doesn't know what action he'll take?'

'Shhhh…' Saoirse said, slowly running a hand through his hair, giving him a tousled appearance. 'I won't let you be so hard on yourself.' She said firmly.

'If I'm easy on myself, he wins.' Bruce said simply.

'You really believe that?'

'I do.' He swallowed and his eyes gained a mystical, almost idealistic glow. 'I can't let Gotham down. Not now. There's still hope for her to recover, if only I can rid her of this parasite…' Saoirse was irresistibly reminded of Alfred's opinion on his charge's attachment to this diseased city. Alfred wished more than anything for Bruce to leave Gotham, never to return. But he knew better than to raise this issue with Master Wayne, he could only continue to persevere in the hope that Bruce would one day see the error in his philosophy.

Bruce exhaled slowly while closing his eyes, the concealing of his bright iris only serving to highlight how utterly exhausted he was. 'You look so tired.' Saoirse murmured, running a cold finger along the fragile pouches of skin beneath his eyes.

'Thanks.' Bruce muttered darkly, re-opening his eyes with some effort.

'When did you last sleep?'

'This is the closest I've had to sleep in… two days?' He ventured. Saoirse now realised he'd been struggling to stay awake ever since they'd collapsed into bed half an hour ago.

'Then let's sleep. Dreams might make a little more sense than reality.' She whispered coaxingly, burrowing further under the sheets, her nose pressed gently against Bruce's Adam's apple. He didn't put up much resistance to this suggestion, his deep breaths signalling his swift departure from the land of the conscious. Sleep wasn't searching for Saoirse so she lay awake, pressed firmly against the body of Gotham's most famous vigilante. She questioned whether Gotham deserved the almost religious dedication with which Bruce gave to the city. Her dozing thoughts turned towards her own relationship with the city. She'd lost the one thing which had so firmly tied her to Gotham, now she floated in limbo, entirely ambivalent concerning her future with the dark knight slumbering beside her.

Saoirse gently extracted herself from Bruce's relaxed embrace and slipped from the bed. It was a testament to how completely exhausted Bruce was that he didn't wake upon her departure, he merely turned over and continued to sleep soundly. She pulled on a jumper and some shoes before leaving the room and searching for the mansion's faithful butler. After padding around the eerily quiet rooms of the monstrous house, it was of course he who found her first.

'Looking for something Ms Nolan?' He asked, startling Saoirse to such a degree that she wouldn't have been surprised if Alfred had detached himself from a nearby pillar.

'Yes Alfred… I was wondering if I could have a chat with you.' She said slowly, calming her flustered heart.

'Very well Ms Nolan. Might I ask what the topic of our conversation is?'

'…Do you remember the conversation we had in the batcave?' She tentatively asked. Alfred's eyes twinkled when he realised the direction in which this conversation was flowing.

'I'm sure I can recall the most important aspects, although you'll have to excuse an old butler like me forgetting a few of the _minor_ details.' He said with a good natured smile.

'I think I've come to agree with you… that Gotham isn't good for Bruce.' Saoirse bluntly admitted.

'I'm very glad to hear it, Ms Nolan.' He said sincerely.

'I'm not sure how to proceed with Bruce… he's so protective of the city, how am I supposed to extract him from his dedicated service?'

'Ah, well at the moment, extraction is out of the question. The game you see is still in play. And as long as the king hasn't been checked and consequently obliterated, there will be no escape for Master Wayne.' Alfred said sadly. 'Might I suggest we continue this conversation upstairs?'

'Yes. Sure.' Saoirse said distractedly, climbing the spiral staircase to the second floor of the library. She sat in the window seat over-looking the darkened grounds of Wayne Manor but was surprised when the butler took the seat at an adjacent table where a familiar chess set was perched.

'I thought these pieces might come in use in this conversation.' He said in answer to her questioning look. Feeling perplexed, Saoirse took the other seat, looking down at the board and realising that she hadn't sat there since her re-cooperation from the cerulean incident all those months ago. She toyed with a highly polished white castle and searched for a way to begin this discussion.

'Is it possible? To extract Bruce from Gotham?' She asked, feeling a little hopeless.

Alfred picked up his king and observed it keenly, the black marble shining in the dark. 'This –' He proclaimed '– is crime in Gotham and at the moment, this is crime's greatest agent.' He replaced the king and picked up the black queen. 'This is the Joker, moving in all sorts of unexpected ways and providing unexpected but most importantly _powerful _blows to the city. He has the ability to create chaos by dismantling the set pieces which Gotham relies so heavily on to survive. Firstly, he robbed banks, blew up hospitals and disrupted funerals. This got rid of some minor and not so minor pieces.' He removed a few pawns, both castles, a knight and a bishop. 'Then he went for Gotham's soul, a man named Harvey Dent.' He said soberly, knocking over the remaining white knight to the chessboard with the butt of the queen. 'Police tried to stop him.' He pushed out the remaining bishop. 'But they too, were squashed.' Alfred harshly flicked the bishop to the side of the board. 'All that was left was the Batman. Now, the only way Batman could play on an even field with the Joker, was to be as strong, as resilient, and as cunning as him.' He pushed forward the white queen so it directly opposed the black queen. 'What the Joker does which no other criminal Batman has encountered before, is the execution of those who support as well as oppose him.' With the black queen he viciously knocked down a handful of black pawns, took out the two black knights, a castle and a bishop. 'This leaves those who support him as well as those who oppose him in equal fear of him, resulting in the Joker floating in a bizarre sort of limbo.' He placed the black queen at the direct centre of the board. 'He alone opposes both sides and this is the key to him being such a hard piece to catch and defeat. In this context, Master Wayne is the most skilled chess player which Gotham has at her disposal, the only one who can truly oppose the Joker. But the Joker doesn't play the same game, he lives by only one rule: to live without rules. And as skilled as Master Wayne is, the Joker seems to be able to beat him, using moves which don't directly affect him, but those he is meant to be protecting.' He allowed the black queen to take a few more white pawns surrounding the white queen. 'By doing this, he is cajoling Batman into his pit of madness where he wishes to mould a new monster from the man who has until now been able to resist his alluring insanity.' He pushed the white queen out to the middle of the chess board, pressing against the black queen. 'Batman must also detach himself from the law in order to catch the Joker and to beat him at his own game… he may have to break his one rule.' Alfred sat in silence for some moments, observing the chaotic battlefield he had created with a little sadness. 'The longer this process is dragged out Ms Nolan, the less of Bruce Wayne we will be able to recover. But neither of us will be able to coax Bruce from Gotham while the Joker is terrorizing the city.' He smiled sadly over the messy chessboard. 'You however, already knew this.' Saoirse nodded slowly. 'The question which remains Ms Nolan; is what will you do? Will you stay and wait for a man who might never return from beneath the cape and caul? Or will you leave?'

Saoirse felt a tightening sensation in her chest when she realised what her answer was.


	52. Chapter 52

Saoirse added three spoons of sugar to her lumpy looking coffee and gave the black contents a disheartening swirl. She took a sip, happy in the knowledge that the gone-off taste of the beans was successfully masked by the liberal amounts of sugar she'd added.

'Trying to rot your teeth?' John asked as he slid into the opposite side of the booth.

'You're late, officer.' Saoirse commented, bewildered by her gloomy tone.

'Sorry about that… I had a date.'

'Anyone I know?' Saoirse asked, knowing Blake would say no.

'Actually… I was with Lisbeth.' Saoirse just managed to hang onto the coffee threatening to spew from her mouth onto John's spotless navy uniform.

'L-Lisbeth? _My _Lisbeth?'

'Yes.' He said, looking very smug.

'_When _did this happen?'

'Well, after our bizarre little introduction, I asked her out. And judging from the success of our previous few dates, we seem to be getting along _just_ fine.' He said with an attempt at an innocent shrug. His smugness however, still permeated through this gesture. After the initial shock, Saoirse found that she greatly approved of the match, two sensible people in a relationship together. It made sense, a police officer and a doctor. A vigilante and the daughter of a mafia leader on the other hand…

'So, how are things between you and the Batman?' John asked, achieving a state of nonchalance which had until now escaped him.

'_E-Excuse_ me?' Saoirse spluttered.

'You know; the relationship between you and Bruce… who is Batman. Information which isn't exactly news to your ears I'm sure.' Saoirse could only stare. 'Oh Saoirse please, the rest of Gotham might be oblivious but not _me_. I figured it out some time ago; it was the only conclusion which could possibly fit. Who had access to the funds and technology to create the Tumbler, the Pod, the _Suit_? Everything started getting crazy when he arrived back from his seven year tour of the world. Coincidence? No such thing exists in a city where a masked man runs around fighting crime...' Saoirse's heart was hammering in her chest; she couldn't believe that John knew. Bruce hadn't told him… how had he deduced these facts for himself? After taking a thoughtful swig of coffee –and immediately regretting this choice– she wondered whether John was searching for her to confirm his confident accusation.

'So you think Bruce is the Batman?' She asked drily, as if this were all part of some hilarious joke.

'Yes.' He replied bluntly.

'And I supposed you derived his motivation for becoming the Batman from his strict moral code? You know; the one he uses when he becomes inebriated with drink and screws around more than a lion surrounded by a pride of lionesses?'

'You're very loyal to keeping his façade unquestioned.' John said thoughtfully. 'But I'm not fooled, so you can drop the pretence. I've known for years.'

'And _how _have you known for years?' Saoirse asked exasperatedly.

'I met him when I was a child… his face told me everything.' He said simply.

'His face…?'

'Yes. He had the same expression I did. A carefully arranged mask to keep the rage bubbling just beneath the surface. That sort of anger… one which permeates your entire being… it doesn't just go away. You need to channel it. I chose police work. You chose boxing. Bruce however, his ideas were of a much grander scale, he wanted to make the monster useful, to allow it to run free but walking the path of justice at the same time. It's quite an elegant solution if you ask me.'

'I take it you're a fan of the Batman then?' Saoirse asked sarcastically, still not admitting anything.

'Of course. He causes quite the controversy in the office, I assure you.'

'Oh, I can imagine.'

'You're still not going to admit it, are you?'

'Admit what?'

'That Bruce is Batman.'

'The notion that we're in a relationship is ludicrous enough.' She said with a tired attempt at shrugging her shoulders.

'Saoirse please, you didn't see the way he took care of you during and after your operation but _I_ did. That wasn't the great Bruce Wayne lusting after some fiery employee, it was the worst kind of love.'

'The _worst_ kind?'

'Unrequited.' Saoirse's stomach did a clumsy belly-flop at this word.

'Christ, that sounds like romcom smut.' John chuckled at this, always taken aback by Saoirse's blunt outbursts.

'I suppose there's a less "gooey" word I could employ.'

'I should hope so…' She took a deep breath and plunged into a confession. 'Fine. Yes, Bruce and I are in a relationship.' She muttered, making quotation marks around the last word.

'And you know he moonlights as a masked vigilante…?'

'He does _not _–'

'Saoirse _please_ –'

'No John! Don't you "Saoirse please" me!' Saoirse spat, feeling horribly vulnerable in this conversation.

'Saoirse, I'm not going to arrest him! I _admire _the man for what he does; his stance against crime hasn't been seen in Gotham throughout my or my dad's lifetime!' He said while pounding his fist on the table, threatening to overturn Saoirse's now cold coffee.

'If you already know, why do you need me to confirm your belief?' Saoirse hissed.

'I don't need your confirmation Saoirse; I just want to know if _you _know.' He said with a slight shrug. Saoirse observed John for a moment, taking in his intense, slightly hungry expression. Yet there was truth to what he was saying, in her gut Saoirse knew this. She'd worked with John long enough to understand his beliefs where justice was concerned and Batman was right up there with any of his other idols. She stirred her coffee once again, having no intention of drinking, but trying to find a few more precious seconds before answering him.

'Yeah…' She murmured while nodding her head. 'I know.' Those three words signalled their shared knowledge of Gotham's greatest secret; the face behind their masked guardian.

'I knew you did.' John muttered, careful to keep his voice low as a couple slipped into an adjacent booth. 'I _knew _it!' He whispered, stifling his excitement by taking a deep gulp of his coffee. He swallowed and regarded Saoirse for a moment, a strange expression pulling at his features.

'What?' Saoirse asked, feeling mightily self-conscious.

'Oh nothing… you're only dating the_ Batman_. The Caped Crusader, the Dark Knight, Gotham's Guardian. That must be…_odd_.'

'It won't be odd for much longer.' Saoirse muttered, shoving her coffee away from her.

'Is he planning on quitting?' John asked; all traces of amusement stripped from his voice.

'No.' Saoirse said coldly.

'Then why –'

'Because I'm leaving him.' Saoirse confessed to the stained table, unable to meet John's astonished gaze.

'_Why_?'

'Why? _WHY?_' Saoirse asked incredulously. 'John… you fucking _know _about my past seeing as you happen to be the sharpest bloody officer Gotham has ever produced! So in your head could you perhaps deduce my logic behind such a manoeuvre?' She snarled. John looked taken aback by this aggressive response, placing his hands up in mock surrender.

'Didn't mean to touch a nerve…' He muttered, grimacing as he swallowed some cold coffee. 'Are you leaving him or the city?' He asked. Saoirse could only stare at John, amazed by the way he could so easily phrase a question in order for someone to perfectly articulate an opinion.

'Both.' Saoirse murmured.

'Well, you're leaving Gotham because the sting operation is an absolute mess ever since the Joker started spreading his chaos around. You're also leaving because you no longer have any family left which you care about. Then there's Bruce… as Batman, he is of course unable to leave this city. So by you stating that you're leaving implies that he is not enough of an incentive for you to remain by his side.' John finished his diagnosis and folded his hands neatly in his lap.

'Christ on a bike, I sound like a spineless bitch.' Saoirse said.

'It would only be spineless if you left and didn't tell him.' John said with a shrug.

'Ugh this is going to be an ugly day…' Saoirse said, her head sinking into her hands.

'You might need something stronger than coffee.'

'It's not even midday yet!'

'On a day like this, your main concern is socially acceptable times to drink alcohol? _Really_?'

'Old habits die hard…' Saoirse muttered while carelessly throwing money onto the table and roughly shoving her body towards the door.

'Good luck!' John called from the booth, meaning every letter of the clichéd saying.

* * *

The ride towards Wayne Manor had been one of the most unpleasant experiences of Saoirse's life. She wasn't used to knowing in advance a decision which would cause so much grief to both parties. Knowing it was her move only made the snakes in her stomach writhe more enthusiastically. She clumsily dismounted from the bike; her hands numb from her careless lack of gloves and stood in front of the huge door to Wayne Manor, never feeling more intimidated by the grand entrance. Taking a few deep breaths which did nothing to steady her stuttering heart, she raised her hand and knocked solemnly on the door. Alfred was soon greeting her, everything familiar except his sober expression.

'Is everything alright Alfred?' Saoirse asked, suddenly filled with fear that some physical harm had befallen his charge.

'Not yet Ms Nolan. But after your visit, I'm sure Master Wayne will be quite inconsolable.' He said quietly. Guilt squirmed in Saoirse's intestines at this candid but piercing remark, Alfred's pure words cut deeper than John's earlier deduction. 'You'll find Master Wayne in the piano room, brunch has just been served.' He added before heading off into another part of the manor, leaving Saoirse alone to find her way to the piano room. Alfred had never abandoned her at the door and this gesture left her feeling deeply unsettled as she climbed the magnificent staircase. Much sooner than she would have liked, she had strode into the piano room. Seeing Bruce lazily reclined in a chair, a thoughtful look replaced with one of delight at her arrival produced a ghostly hand which entered Saoirse's stomach where it squeezed and twisted her intestines.

'I wasn't expecting you.' Bruce said with a quirked smile, bending down to peck her gently on the lips. As his lips touched hers, Saoirse was seized with a reckless longing; this was to be their last kiss, she didn't want it to be some meaningless peck. With an aggression which surprised both parties, she selfishly indulged for a moment, pulling his body to hers and locking lips with him in such a ferocious battle that she ended up drawing blood from his lower lip. Gasping for air, she let go of his shirt and staggered backwards, leaving a bewildered and suspicious Bruce sucking his lip dry. Heart racing wildly and pupils dilated to an almost stoned state, Saoirse tried to gather her wits together and master the sudden urge to rip the clothes from Bruce's body. She needed to be strong; she needed to do the right thing by her. With some difficulty, she managed to keep the thought that sex would only make this situation worse at the forefront of her mind, leaving her raging hormones defeated.

'What was that?' Bruce asked, his initial pleasure at her interest descending into cold suspicion. Saoirse tried to calm her breathing, her lungs kept taking irregular gulps of air, flushing her cheeks much to her disgust.

'A kiss…?' Saoirse said innocently.

'That wasn't a kiss…. That was…' As realisation flickered into life, Bruce sat down in an armchair opposite the piano, the reality crashing around him and threatening to deal him physical blows. 'That was goodbye.' He finished in a quiet hum, placing a finger against his lip and examining the crimson drop attached to the soft flesh. Saoirse didn't know how to respond, how could she speak the rehearsed words which she didn't believe? She couldn't tell him that her feelings had petered out, that premise was severely undermined by her tearing into his lip…

'You're leaving?' He asked, this time his voice adopting a slight child-like quality.

'I don't want to.' Saoirse said truthfully.

'Then why –'

'Because I have to Bruce.' Saoirse whispered gently, wanting to reach out, to run her hands along his powerful shoulders, to tangle her fingers in his hair, to lock lips with him for one more time… She of course did no such thing, keeping a ten feet distance from the man who messed so unwittingly with her hormones.

'Have to… but don't want to. Enlighten me.' He commanded; his eyes now stony and defensive.

'Caoimhe's gone… the sting operation is a laughable offence, my father is still running things like always and will never be caught and the Joker is determined to capture me. What is there for me to stay for?' She asked quietly.

'If you still love me then I'm a reason.' Bruce said with brutal honesty. Saoirse felt the hand move from her intestines to her heart where it slowly began to squeeze tighter and tighter. Feeling she would choke on supressed emotion if she didn't touch him, she approached and clambered onto his armchair. Slightly taken aback by the red-haired woman straddling him, Bruce's cold, indifferent disposition began to thaw. Saoirse placed both hands on either side of Bruce's face, her thumbs tracing circles against his well-shaped features, forcing him to look into her eyes.

'I'd have been gone weeks ago, after Caoimhe was reunited with her mother if it hadn't been for you. I love you Bruce Wayne but no amount of love can make me stay where there is nothing for me. Nothing for you. Nothing for either of us.' She bent forwards and allowed her lips to trace against his forehead. 'You've already given your body to Gotham; you don't need to give her your soul too.' Saoirse whispered, hating the tear which scalded a path down her left cheek.

'That won't happen.' Bruce said stoically.

'How can you possibly know that?' Saoirse asked, pushing herself away so she could observe him.

'Because I won't let it happen.' Saoirse knew it was pointless, useless, beyond hope but she tried anyway.

'Come with me.' She whispered, placing delicate, butterfly kisses beneath both of his eyes. His eyes closed in a dreamy fashion at her caress and goosebumps prickled her skin as his hands travelled the length of her spine. 'Come with me Bruce, we can start afresh in another state, another country, another continent. Just the two of us. We wouldn't need anyone else.' She said coaxingly, her hands cupping his face once more as she painted this image for him. 'We'll be happy together; we could have a chance of a future, of a full life.' She hastily swiped away a tear. 'There's nothing but death for us here.' She murmured, trying her best to keep the pleading from her voice. 'You've done more than enough, you've done too much. Don't ask more of yourself… just come with me.' Saoirse's voice broke on the last sentence and it was with great strength that she fought back the wave of emotion fighting to overwhelm her. Bruce opened his eyes and stared into the depths of those blue eyes he had studied with such determination. The thick eyelashes were smeared with teardrops; the ocean-blue iris radiant among the network of expanded blood capillaries. He ran a hand through his most favourite hair colour, allowing for the last time to feel the silky texture of the fiery strands run through his fingers.

'I will not desert Gotham in her hour of need.' Bruce said, breaking any hopes which had been spiralled by Saoirse's passionate begging. She nodded for a moment, allowing the reality which she had been expecting but not desiring to sink in. After a minute of silence she leant forwards and kissed him softly, gently, her top lip caressing his in a sinfully sweet manner.

'I know you won't.' She whispered, her lips occasionally brushing against his as she spoke. 'The man I fell in love with would never abandon his principals.' She admitted, a few more tears streaking her reddening face. Bruce silenced anymore miserable thoughts with another kiss, a soft, delicate tender thing, the most carefully placed kiss of his life. Their lips parted, the spell broke and Saoirse slowly withdrew from Bruce's comforting and familiar body. She squeezed his hand gently and with a fleeting, devastated smile, she turned and left the piano room, shattering their relationship as she closed the door.


	53. Chapter 53

Saoirse pulled her rented car onto the hard shoulder and found herself clambering out of the cheap vehicle. She took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder at the distant city of Gotham, the city's skyscrapers reduced to glittering shadows during the final minutes of the day's sunset. She leant against the bonnet of her car, gazing fiercely at the city which she'd managed to travel twenty miles from. Somewhere among those expensive shadows lay the Joker, her father and a man whose name only brought a dull ache to her chest. Stifling a sigh, she re-entered the car, harshly slamming the door on Gotham's pleasing silhouette. Her fingers slowly turned the key in the ignition, the car complaining loudly as it was brought back to life and tried to urge the car forward. Her toe however, refused to meet with the stiff accelerator and Saoirse realised she was fighting against herself. Pressing the accelerator meant leaving Gotham, leaving love, leaving _him_ forever. She gritted her teeth and reminded herself of why she was leaving. In Gotham her father and the Joker resided, all hell-bent on making her life a living hell. It was not safe for her in Gotham; she was powerless to change her own circumstances as the police's failed sting operation had so harshly demonstrated. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the steering wheel, the internal battle raging onwards. Stay or go? Leave now and never come back or return to a temporary warm embrace before death found her?

Before Saoirse knew what she was doing, her fists were pounding against the steering wheel and she was screaming. It was the sound of a wounded, defeated creature and with her yells came huge, heaving sobs. Much to her disgust, her body betrayed her and the onslaught of emotions which she had so masterfully kept at bay in _his _presence now descended with a vehement fury. It was brutal, the rawness of her emotions once again knocked her backwards, she couldn't fight, only be swept away in the aggressive torrent. The sobs and moans continued for endless minutes, her emotions scalding and slapping her at irregular intervals, rudely interrupting any beliefs that the tsunami was abating. Her hands were bruised from their continuous assault on the steering wheel, her cheeks were burning with many tear tracts and her spirit felt broken. Sometime later, when she could harness a little control over the emotional oblivion, she realised her head was resting against the steering wheel, her hands hanging limp and sore in her lap. Through the mentally exhausted veils, she realised she felt disgusted with her behaviour. She was meant to be strong, tough, able to handle any situation. Why was it so hard to leave?

A sudden epiphany struck her and she felt disorientated from the abrupt clarification. Saoirse quickly sat up, scraped her tousled hair behind her shoulders, swiped any tears which dared remain on her face and felt like laughing as she finally understood herself. She turned on the engine and ignoring the cacophony of horns at her outrageous driving, made a rough U-turn and quickly sped back towards Gotham.

* * *

'Alfred! Let. Me. In!' Saoirse roared; her knuckles raw from pounding on the sturdy wood. A few seconds later the door was opened by a truly surprised butler.

'S-Saoirse?' He gasped; his surprise so complete he temporarily forgot his formal disposition.

'Alfred; I'm such an idiot. Where is he? I need to speak with him.' She demanded.

'You've just missed Master Wayne; he took the Tumbler and left approximately ten minutes ago.' Alfred informed her, recovering some of his usual composure.

'He's gone?' Saoirse groaned, feeling her fleeting euphoria deflate.

'I can tell you where he was headed if that's of any use to you?' Alfred asked, doing his best to be helpful now he realised Saoirse's intentions.

'Can you?' She asked sceptically.

'Master Wayne might possess the brains of this family but even an old butler like me knows a few tricks to keep an eye on him.' Alfred said, moving to the side to allow Saoirse into the mansion. She quickly followed Alfred to the piano room where after hitting three sets of parallel keys, the secret doorway was revealed. They hurried through the roughly hewn passage, eventually arriving in the bat infested cave, the limp hanging bodies sending chills down Saoirse's spine. 'This way.' Alfred commanded as he approached and unlocked the state of the art computer system at the centre of the room.

'Why did Bruce leave, Alfred?' Alfred paused in his typing before observing her keenly over the tips of his glasses.

'Perhaps it would be wiser for you to wait for Master Wayne's return instead of searching for him?' Alfred suggested.

'Why?' Saoirse asked; her stomach suddenly knotted with suspicion. 'What's wrong Alfred? Where did Bruce go?' Alfred exhaled slowly before returning his attention back to the monitor and finishing a few commands.

'He was feeling quite reckless after you left this morning and locked himself down here for hours, tapping away like a maniac at this machine. Eventually he found something which would distract him from his emotions.'

'And what might that have been?' Saoirse asked quietly.

'The true location of the Joker.' Alfred finished his commands and pressed the return key. A map of Gotham suddenly sprang onto the screen and a tracking device pinpointed Bruce's location, right in the heart of the Narrows.

'He's in the tunnels? That's the most deserted place in Gotham.' Saoirse murmured.

'And therefore the most dangerous.' Alfred said, closing his eyes and mastering his anxiety for his charge.

'He's gone after the Joker…' Saoirse said; her voice three pitches too high for her liking. Why had Alfred allowed Bruce to leave when he knew of his reckless intentions?

'We must not ponder the actions we have already taken Ms Nolan. Instead, we should seriously contemplate the available options we have and make the right choice.' Alfred said wisely.

'I've got to find him. Will you help me?' She asked.

'Frankly Ms Nolan, I think you'll be needing all of the help you can get.'

* * *

By the time Saoirse had procured her bike from Wayne Manor's extravagant garage, night had truly fallen. Alfred had sent the G.P.S location of Bruce to her phone, allowing her to arrive there as quickly as possible. It seemed stupid that she should be chasing Bruce into the tunnels of the Narrows but a small but persistent voice in her head demanded she see him, to tell him of her change of heart. Before it was too late.

The bike snarled into life and after quickly throwing a leg over the seat, and slamming a helmet on, she accelerated into the night. Crunchy gravel soon gave way to smooth tarmac and it wasn't long before she was speeding through the labyrinth of streets on a direct collision course with the Narrows. Saoirse purposefully guided the bike through the late evening traffic, urging herself onwards, trying to keep at bay the notion that it might be too late for her to tell him. Ten minutes later, she willingly entered the most dangerous part of Gotham; the tunnels beneath the Narrows. Here the sound of her bike echoed noisily like an irksome shadow, announcing to anyone to hear that there was indeed an intruder. Ignoring the loss of the element of surprise, Saoirse was fast approaching the area Bruce was reportedly stationed. She rounded another corner, her tyres squealing against the rough tarmac until what she saw ahead forced her to stomp on the brakes. She was almost flung over the handlebars but somehow, she managed to resist the forward momentum which had tried to wrench her from her seat. The bike shuddered to a halt and Saoirse quickly dismounted, her legs shaking not from her abrupt halt, but from what lay ahead.

The Tumbler lay devastated in the centre of the tunnel, a yawning hole in its front speaking of damage from some unthinkably powerful weapon. Something only as strong as a bazooka could inflict such damage to the impenetrable Tumbler. Cars lay broken and disembowelled, scattered like forgotten pieces of rubbish around the singed carcass of Batman's vehicle. Nothing was moving save for the few flickering fires which told tales of previous explosions. As Saoirse took in this scene of devastation, her adrenaline began to course through her veins, heightening her senses and making her vastly aware of her surroundings. She abandoned her bike and quickly took refuge in the shadow of a looming wall. She inched closer to the wreckage, holding her breath and stepping with a light foot so as to not alert anyone who had survived the blast. She pushed concerns and gnawing anxiety for Bruce's safety deep inside of her, locking it away in a safe and throwing the key away. She continued her awkward journey until she drew level with the Tumbler which upon further inspection, was empty. The story wasn't the same for the other cars, a few bodies lay strewn in awkward positions; all of them were wearing or holding a clown mask of sorts. One particularly grizzled henchman had his last laugh etched into his face before the blast had finished him.

The sound of footsteps forced Saoirse back into the shadows and a tall, well-built man walked through a side-door which until now had gone completely unnoticed. He was talking animatedly on a phone and Saoirse remained perfectly still, knowing if she so much as breathed too loudly, she would attract his attention.

'Yeah, I'm down here now. It looks like all the explosives in the car blew up.' He went around and checked the individual broken vehicles. 'Nothing left. Even Batman's car took some punishment.' Saoirse couldn't see the smile behind the man's clown mask but she knew it was there. 'Alright, I'm coming back up. It's not every day you get to see the Batman brutally murdered.' He pocketed the phone and just as he was about to pass by Saoirse's hiding place, she grasped a rock dislodged from the wall during the blasts and hurled it at the masked man. With a dull _thud _it connected with his frontal lobe. He hovered in mid step, fighting to regain control of his body before crumpling into a pathetic heap. Saoirse would have found this comical had the circumstances not been so dire. She took his mask, gun and phone and proceeded through the door the man had just vacated, taking the revealed stairs three at a time. After four separate flights, a door loomed ahead. Peering through the poorly constructed eyeholes of the mask, Saoirse could make-out a large room with the Joker at the centre, prancing around and antagonizing a defenceless Batman. Bruce was – much to Saoirse's surprise – still masked. She cracked the door open a notch and some of the Joker's diseased words meandered through the chink.

'Tonight, ladies and _gentlemen _we get to unmask the Batman! It has been a long, stressful campaign but we have kept our promise to the citizens of Gotham, we have prevailed! I present to you, the Batman, completely at _my_ mercy!' The Joker broke off his monologue and began to laugh exuberantly, much to the delight of his fellow cronies. 'Have you anything to say at your grand de-frocking, _Batman_?' The Joker asked, leaning so close to Bruce it looked as if he might kiss him. 'Oh I think we have a shy vigilante here! How about we _loosen_his vocal chords?' Procuring a knife from seemingly nowhere, the Joker slashed it violently over the back of Bruce's bare right hand, producing a grunt of pain as the crimson liquid sloshed to the ground. 'HE SPEAKS!' The Joker roared, his words greeted by tumultuous applause. Saoirse felt a rising dread as the Joker continued to fuel the animalistic atmosphere.

'And just who might you be my pretty?' A voice growled into Saoirse's ear. Her entire body froze and gave over to temporary panic. Someone had snuck up behind her and was tracing a pattern along her ribcage with a knife.

'A-A follower.' She managed to squeak. She was spun around by a strong hand and her mask was ripped from her face, exposing her to the man she'd previously stolen it from.

'If you're a follower, then why are you wearing _my _mask?' He hissed, his breath smelling of putrid alcohol and cigarettes.

'Must be s-some mistake–'

'No mistake. You're intruding on business which doesn't concern you. And you've violated my mask by putting it on when the Joker himself gave it to me.'

'I'm sorry, I d-didn't mean –'

'You need a lesson in manners, and it looks like I'm in a good enough mood to give you one.' He ran a hand along her hair, his fist clenched painfully among the fiery locks. 'Even the lowliest whorehosue won't employ you after I'm finished with you.' This remark thawed Saoirse's frozen and helpless state. Knowing she must defend herself, she rallied against the threat, sinking her knee between the man's legs and feeling a deflation beneath her kneecap. She swatted the knife hand away from her body, lowered her head and in an upward manoeuvre, smashed her head into his nose. With a sickening crunch, Saoirse shoved the man from her, raising her hands in order to defend herself. The man staggered backwards but soon righted himself, snarling as he violently slashed the air in front of him. It seemed she hadn't done much to dissuade him from further attack. Saoirse ducked to avoid a ferocious swipe which if it had connected would have resulted in the blade embedding itself in her cheek. She was not, however, able to avoid the clenched fist which connected with her stomach. Gasping for air, she managed to roll away from her attacker and feeling as if she were in a dream, slowly pushed herself to her feet. She suddenly remembered the gun which she'd lifted from him earlier and with a shaky hand, withdrew it from her pocket. Her attacker instantly stilled when he saw his weapon in her hand.

'Drop the knife.' She commanded.

'Now listen here –'

'Do you speak English?' She spat, using the wall to support herself. She was almost certain she'd cracked a rib and she'd somehow obtained a gash above her left eyebrow.

'Of course I do –'

'Then drop the fucking knife.' Saoirse roared in a stage-whisper. Realising that Saoirse was in no mood for negotiations, the man dropped the knife. 'Good, now kick it over to me.' He did as she commanded, his hands raised in surrender.

'You're not going to shoot me.' He said, flashing tobacco stained teeth.

'No? You willing to bet your life on it?' Saoirse asked, trying to stop her hands from shaking.

'I only bet when there's risk involved.' The man replied, slowly inching forwards. Just as he lunged towards her, Saoirse realised she didn't have the gall to pull the trigger. She twisted the gun around in her hand and as the huge bulk of the man collided with her, she made a vehement slashing motion with the butt of the gun which miraculously made a connection with the back of the assailant's head. Once more he fell limp but he collapsed sideways, down half a flight of stairs before coming to a halt. Saoirse quickly pocketed the gun, trying to push the thoughts of possible manslaughter from her mind. She replaced the clown mask once again and resumed her observation of the room beyond. Bruce was still sitting with his mask on; both of his hands had now been slashed open numerous times by the Joker's blade while his cronies gave whoops of encouragement. Saoirse nudged the door open once again to listen in on their conversation.

'Well my gentle followers, the time has come! Let the de-frocking begin!' The Joker sang, much to the enthusiastic reception of his men. The Joker tilted Bruce's head backwards and grasped the side of his mask with almost a loving embrace. Saoirse wondered how many bullets were in her gun, how they would help in any way to get Bruce out of that room alive. The Joker fumbled inside of his jacket pocket for a second before producing a hand held machine gun. Saoirse froze as the nozzle rested against Bruce's forehead. But before she could recklessly move into the room, the Joker expertly opened fire, but not on Bruce. Bullets ripped through the Joker's men until none were left standing save for him. 'Sorry for all the racket, I just wanted this moment to be a little more _private_. And though the mutts are handy for running errands, they're too nosy altogether. It's nicer this way, more fitting. Don't you agree?' The Joker asked. Saoirse watched as Bruce slowly raised his head.

'You're a monster.' He managed to rasp, the mechanism he used to disguise his voice had failed during the explosion downstairs.

'Me? A _monster_?' The Joker asked innocently, feigning to be wounded by the Batman's words. 'If I'm a monster, then what does that make you? An outcast. Like me. You see Batman; we need each other to survive because together, we just have too much _fun_.' He placed both of his hands on either side of Bruce's mask and moved to pull it clean from his face. Saoirse didn't remember stepping into the room or drawing the gun, the Joker only stopped when he heard the safety trigger click off her revolver. He had no weapon in his hand, his machine gun lay discarded on the floor. 'Well, well, well. Who do we have here? You're a little small to qualify for a henchman darling.' The Joker murmured, not liking this interruption one bit. Saoirse gripped the clown mask with her free hand and tore it from her face, her hair cascading down her shoulders like molten lava.

'I'm the one who you tried and failed to kidnap.' She replied coolly, keeping her gun trained on him. The Joker's eyes widened at this while a truly evil smile pulled at his scarred face.

'And you're here to save your damsel in distress. Oh what a double whammy it would have been if those idiots hadn't screwed up, to have the daughter of Michael Conlon and Batman's _little_ squeeze in one package. Oh the anarchy I could have spread from that…' He shook his head sadly. 'No hope for that now. But you look a little rough, did one of my men handle you in an unchristian way?' He asked in a deceptively sincere voice.

'He tried. Then he took a tumble down some stairs.' Saoirse said coldly.

'Did he now?' The Joker asked, his dark eyes lighting at this news of unexpected violence. He quirked his head to the side, his smile etching a deeper groove into his face. 'What about you Batman? Aren't you happy to see your little knight in shining armour? Come to rescue you from the dastardly villain?' He asked in a chilling sing-song voice.

'Step away from him.' Saoirse said, trying her best to keep her voice even.

'Step – step away from him? Are you seriously trying to… oh you are, oh my, oh haha, hahahha, MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA.'

'What's so funny?' Saoirse spat.

'Oh nothing my dear, just the little illusion you're suffering from that you are the one in control amused me in the way most bad jokes do.'

'I'm the one with the gun.' She snarled.

'But not the one with the killer intent. That's the power you're lacking, severely undermining any premise of you pulling that trigger and either killing or seriously injuring me.' He said in a sickeningly sweet voice. 'I, on the other hand, always have a trick up my sleeve… you see, you always have to have an ace… in the hole.' He then produced a grenade from his pocket, his gloved hands toying idly with the trigger.

'You wouldn't –' Saoirse began.

'I wouldn't? Oh no, I'm afraid I've disappointed you because you know I would. And this little grenade of fun will blow us all to smithereens if you unload that gun in my direction. So I'd think twice if I were you with concerns to trigger-happy antics.' He said with a disturbing smile.

'Leave her alone. Let her go.' Said a drowsy Bruce.

'Oho he wants to turn his knight away! No, no, no, no, no. That simply won't do. We've raised the helmet on the knight; it is time to remove the veil on the princess.' Before Saoirse could say or do anything, the Joker had casually removed the mask, revealing Bruce's tired yet familiar face. Saoirse never saw the Joker's reaction as Bruce had been feigning exhaustion this entire time. He easily untangled himself from the chair and swiped the grenade from the Joker's hand, the green sphere of hate falling to the ground and rolling away into some hidden corner. The Joker quickly recovered and managed to grab his machine gun which he levelled at Bruce.

'It's been a pleasure, but you're no fun for me now!' He snarled. An explosion of sound rushed through the room as the trigger was pulled but no bullets touched Bruce's flesh. Looking around him bewilderedly, he suddenly registered the Joker's slumped form on the ground, bleeding profusely from his head. His eyes slowly travelled upwards, resting on the now rock-steady hand of Saoirse Nolan who had loosed a single bullet into the back of the Joker's head, killing him instantly. Her arm slowly returned to her side, the gun dropped to the floor. She felt no guilt at this execution; she'd stopped him from killing a purer life. As she watched the pool of blood radiate outwards from its insane host, she suddenly realised how abnormal it was to be so relaxed after killing someone for the first time. With a shudder, she realised the rotten blood of the mafia ran thicker in her veins than she'd ever allowed herself to understand. Her disturbed thoughts calmed when she saw Bruce watching her closely. She'd done all of this for him, to tell him that she wasn't leaving his side, that her love for him was enough to brave any terrors which Gotham threw into their paths. How she could articulate any of that now in such a violent setting seemed impossible.

'Are you alright?' Bruce eventually managed to rasp. Saoirse nodded and they walked towards each other, Bruce pulling and holding her tightly against his chest, making her feel human once again.

'I just killed someone.' She said, completely astonished by her murderous action.

'Shhh, you're ok, everything's going to be alright.' Bruce said comfortingly.

'You hate me, I know you do. I killed someone; I've tarnished and broken the only rule which you've ever abided by –'

'The only thing I know is you came back to me. And if you hadn't I would most likely be dead by now.' Bruce murmured; trying everything he could to bring Saoirse back from the throes of hysteria. He crushed her body against his, unable to process her being here with him in a time where he'd been certain of his death. Ever since the Tumbler had been destroyed he'd been at a complete disadvantage… but he hadn't been alone. 'So what changed your mind?' He asked her, wanting Saoirse to concentrate on good, sound thoughts until she could come to terms with her actions.

'You of course.' She replied bluntly. 'Life would be miserable without you… it wouldn't be a life. So I came back.' She finished abruptly.

'Do you remember, back in the piano room this morning, what you asked me to do?' Bruce whispered.

'I wanted you to come away with me.' She murmured.

'Yes. To go with you anywhere, to a different country or continent so we could have a chance at starting afresh. You told me there was only death for us here…' He swallowed and took a deep breath. 'I want to. I always wanted to with the exception being that now I can. The threat of the Joker has been annihilated; you've made sure of that.' He said reassuringly. 'I want to go. But if we go... we'll have to go now.' He murmured. Saoirse's eyes snapped upwards.

'Because of what happened here?' She asked shrewdly.

'Yes.' He muttered while running a hand over her face, doing his best to remove some of the dried blood on her forehead.

'Alright.' She said; trying to keep her head buried in Bruce's torso so she wouldn't have to see the surrounding dead bodies. 'Alright.' She repeated.

'Really?' He asked in disbelief.

'Yes.' She said with a firm nod. 'Can we please get out of here?' She asked, her voice going up a few notches. Bruce easily lifted her from her feet, pushing her head against his chest so she wouldn't have to see any more of the destruction created by the Joker. Just at the door, he looked back. The Joker's deflated form lay spread-eagled on the floor, the pool of blood was bigger than ever.

Unlike many of his men, there was no last laugh etched onto his features.

* * *

Bruce stirred, his body swathed in Egyptian cotton and his head caressed by luxurious pillows. He glanced down and felt a warm swell in his heart when he saw the mop of red hair spread over his chest. The hair moved and a bright blue eye could be seen through the tousled locks. A face slowly emerged, pushing itself from the heavy blankets and planting a feather-soft kiss on his lips.

'Morning.' Saoirse purred, running her hands over Bruce's exposed torso.

'And boy has it started off well.' He replied, loving the way his words triggered the flushed state of Saoirse's cheeks.

'Shut up!' She muttered, playfully throwing a pillow at him.

'Any idea where we are?' He asked her.

'Somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean according to the lovely captain.' She said with a small smile. Saoirse still couldn't believe that it took over two weeks for a cruise boat to traverse half of the Pacific Ocean.

'So we dock in Australia in around a week or so. Where do you want to go from there?' He asked her.

'I get to choose?'

'Indeed.'

'Hmm… I've always wanted to go to China.' Bruce smiled; it had been quite some time since he'd visited that country and the last time he'd visited, he'd been thrown in jail.

'I'll see what I can do.' Saoirse pulled herself off Bruce's chest and lay beside him, peering curiously into his eyes. 'What?' He asked, feeling self-conscious.

'That was the last chance to get rid of me.'

'When was?'

'When I left you after you said you wouldn't go with me.' She said quietly, tracing a pattern with her finger around his powerful shoulder.

'So, does that mean I'm stuck with you for the rest of my life whether I like it or not?' Bruce asked playfully.

'Yes.' Saoirse replied sombrely.

'Good.' Bruce murmured, pulling a squealing Saoirse on top of him and allowing the two of them to disappear beneath the sheets into what he hoped would become a familiar oblivion.

**The End.**

* * *

**There, I hope you liked it! If you got this far, thank you very much for reading. **


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